B    3    325    07=1 


GIFT  OF 


I 


1" 


1 


/ 


THE  REIGNING  BELLE. 


BT 


MRS.  AM  S.  STEPHENS. 

AUTHOR    OF    "PALACES     AND    PRISONS,"     "FASHION    AND    FAMINE," 

"MARRIED    IN   HASTE,"    "MABEL'S   MISTAKE."    "DOUBLY    FALSE," 

"WIVES   AND  WIDOWS,"    "MARY    DERWENT,"    "THE  HEIRESS," 

"THE      REJECTED      WIFE,"      "THE     SOLDIER'S    ORPHANS," 

"THE   OLD     HOMESTEAD,"    "RUBY    GRAY'S    STRATEGY," 

"THE    CURSE     OF     GOLD,"     '•  THE  WIFE'S     SECRET," 

"THE     GOLD      BRICK,"      "SILENT       STRUGGLES," 

"A    NOBLE    WOMAN,"    ETC.,    ETC.,    ETC.,    ETC. 


Scatter  the  seed  with  a  reckless  hand; 

Sow  falsehood  deep  with  truth  ; 
Mingle  them  well  in  the  teeming  land,— 

Is  the  wild,  wild  cry  of  youth. 

But  errors,  sown  in  our  early  prime, 
Grow  strong  in  the  coming  years, 

Their  roots  strike  deep  through  all  after  time 
In  the  fount  of  human  tears. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
B.     PETERSON    &    BROTHERS; 

306     CHESTNUT     STREET. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 

T.  B.   PETERSON   £    BB0THXB8, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  CoDgress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


MRS.    ANN    S.   STEPHENS'  WORKS. 

Each  Work  is  complete  in  one  volume,  12mo. 

THE  REIGNING  BELLE. 
A  NOBLE    WOMAN. 

PALACES  AXD  PRISONS 

MARRIED  IX  HASTE. 

R  UB  T  GRA  TS  SIR  A  TEG  T. 

WIVES  AXD  WIDOWS;  OR,    TEE  BROKEN  LIFE. 
THE  REJECTED    WIFE 

TUE  GOLD  BRICK. 

TUE  CURSE  OF  GOLD. 

THE  HEIRESS. 

FASHION  AND  FAMINE. 

THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 

SILEXT  STR  UG G L E8. 

MARY  DERWEXT. 

THE  W1FES  SECRET. 

THE  SOLDIER- S  ORPHANS 

MABEL'S  MISTAKE. 

DOUBLY  FALSE. 


Price  of  eapEv.Sl.75  in  'Cftltl;  qr  SI. 50  in  Paper  Cover. 


Ai.nve  books  are  for  >\al»>  by  all  Booksellers.     Copies  of  any  or 
all  of  the  above  books  will   1><>  Bent  to  any  one,  to  any  place, 
postage  pre-paid,  on  receipt  of  their  price  l>y  tbe  Publishers, 
T.  B.   PETERSON   &   BROTHERS, 

'    IIKMMT   STSBXT,    PlIILADKI  I'llIA,    P.\. 


TO 

MRS.    ALEXANDER    RAMSEY, 

OF  ST.   PAUL,  MINNESOTA, 

I  DEDICATE  THIS  YOLUME,  PROM  A  RESPECTFUL  SEN- 
TIMENT OF  ADMIRATION  FOR  HER  NOBLE  QUALITIES  AS 
A  LADT,  ADDED  TO  THAT  SINCERE  FRIENDSHIP  THOSE 
QUALITIES  ARE  CERTAIN  TO  INSPIRE  WHEREVER  SHE  IS 
KNOWN. 

ANN  S.  STEPHENS. 
St.  Cloud  Hotel, 

New  York,  June  26,  1872. 


438864 


CONTENTS. 


■  <»■»»- 


Chapter 


Page 
.     25 


I.— THE    SHOPPING    PARTY 

ES 

; 


II.— THE    GIRL  OF  THE    TIMES 2S 


HI. — A   HUMBLE    HOME 

38 


IV.—  LITTLE    JIMMY   GOES   AFTER  WORK 




V.— A  FEAST    AFTER   A  FAMINE 42 


VI. — IN  THE   MORNING 

51 
VII.— SUNSHINE 

VIIL— TRYING  THINGS   ON 

IX.— THE   LAMBERT  MANSION 

X.— DAWNING    PROSPERITY 

XI —GOSSIP   IN  THE  BASEMENT w 

XII.— JAMES    MAKES  AN   ACQUAINTANCE ™ 

80 

XIII. — THE  GENTLE   INVALID 

QA 
XIV.— THE   POLICEMAN'S    DEATH 

89 
XV.— ARTI6T    SYMPATHY 

qo 
XVI  —MRS.   CARTER   MAKES   A   VISIT 

Q7 
XVII.— THE   FIRST  BANK   NOTES 

101 

XVIII. — OLD  FRIENDS 

XIX.— ME.   BATTLES   IS   DISGUSTED 

...  108 

XX.— OVER    THEIR    TEA •  •  * ' 

(21) 


22  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  Page 

XXI.— A   SLIGHT   ALTERCATION Ill 

XXII. — THE   FIRST   FRUITS   OF   GENIUS 115 

XXIIL— THE   HIDDEN   PACKAGE 110 

XXIV.— WHICH    RIVER 123 

XXV.— THE    PAWNBROKER 1.31 

XXVI. — THE   PAWNBROKER'S   OFFICE 135 

XX VII.— MRS.    CARTER    STANDS   BY   HER   OLD    FRIENDS...    137 

XXVIIL— YOUNG    LAMBERT    SPEAKS  OUT 142 

XXIX.— MISS   SPICER 145 

XXX.— OLD   MEMORIES   AND   PRESENT   STRUGGLES 149 

XXXI—  BITTER  JEALOUSY 152 

XXXII. — DRESSING    FOR   THE   PARTY 156 

XXXIIL— ABOUT  THE    ROSES  AND  VIOLETS 159 

XXXIV.— MRS.   CARTER  BECOMES  FASHIONABLE 164 

XXXV.— A   STRANGE    PROPOSAL 168 

XXXVL— TnE  WAY  SHE  MANAGED   HIM 171 

XXXVII. — A  GLIMPSE  OF  FAIRY  LAND 175 

XXXVIIL— FIGHTING     ANGUISH 178 

XXXIX.— MR.   AND    MRS.   SMITH 181 

XL.— OLD  LOVERS 184 

XLL— I  VON   AND   EVA 187 

XLII. — A   WOMAN    TRANSFIGURED 190 

XLIIL— HERSELF   AGAIN 194 

XL1V.— CLOSING    THE    SHUTTERS 198 

XLV.— WATCHING    FROM    THE    PAVEMENT 202 

m.vi.— a  run  iiii:   r.uirv 206 

XI. VII.— UoW  M16S  SPICER  AND  ELLEN   POST  FRATERNIZE    210 

XLVIII.— FIVE   THOUSAND   DOLLARS 213 

XLIX.— MR.    MAHONE 217 


CONTENTS.  23 

Chapter  PaS° 

I..— A  BARGAIN  AT  LAST 221 

IX— A  BOY  IN   PRISON 224 

LII. — THE   SECOND   ARREST 22S 

LIII. — THE  WOMAN   IN   THE   IAUNDRT 230 

LIy. — PREPARING    FOR   THE  WEDDING 234 

L,V. — EVA'S  TEMPTATION 238 

I, VI.— MRS.   SMITH  BRINGS    PAINFUL  NEWS 242 

LVII. — IN  HASTE    FOR  THE  WEDDING 246 

LVIII. — MOTHER   AND   SON 253 

LIX. — THE   EXAMINATION    COMPLETED 259 

LS.-AN  UNEXPECTED  WITNESS 264 

LXI. — WAITING  FOR  NEWS 271 

LXII. — THE    MORTGAGE 276 

LXIII.— THE  PRICE   OF  A  BRACELET 280 

LXIV. — THE    ADOPTION 283 

LXV. — IN   THE    PARK 2S6 

LXVI. — THE    INDIA   SHAWL    292 

LXVII. — THE    PAWNBROKER   GETS  HIS   PRICE 296 

LXVIII. — MISS   SPICER  RECEIVES   HER  DISMISSAL 299 

LXIX. — THE     TRUTH 304 

LXX. — OUR   CHILD 308 

LXXI.— A  DOUBLE    WEDDING 313 


THE   REIGNING  BELLE. 


<  —»—  > 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    SHOPPING   PARTY. 

Around  her  were  such  glowing  colors,  in  masses,  or 
floating  airily  through  the  room,  that  a  face  less  richly 
tinted  would  have  seemed  pale  by  contrast.  Behind  her 
was  a  pile  of  India  shawls,  in  which  the  rays  of  a  gorgeous 
sunset  seemed  to  have  mellowed  down  in  one  soft,  glowing 
heap.  By  her  side  was  a  morning-dress  of  Oriental  cash- 
mere, with  vivid  palm-leaves  running  far  up  the  skirt,  which 
trailed  down  from  the  wire  skeleton  that  supported  it,  and 
swept  the  floor  like  the  plumage  of  a  peacock. 

In  fact  this  vast  show-room  was  one  panorama  of  bright, 
beautiful  things;  and  most  beautiful  of  all  was  the  young 
girl,  with  her  rich  complexion,  just  verging  on  the  bru- 
nette, and  her  large,  blue-gray  eyes,  that  looked  out  from 
their  sweeping  lashes  like  shadowed  waters  where  the  rushes 
grow  thickly.  Her  hair,  too,  was  lustrous  and  abundant, 
neither  black,  auburn,  nor  brown,  but  with  a  gleam  of  each 
as  the  light  chanced  to  fall  on  it. 

The  face,  we  have  so  imperfectly  described,  was  turned 
toward  a  flight  of  stairs  that  led  from  the  more  general 
warerooms  below,  and  across  it  flew  a  shadow  of  pride  or 

(25) 


- 


.i  il  v  :  -  n 


i'-.-i  : f  i'ih  •  :r    :t  " :  •   7    - "  --- 
_u:  •  - 

i""  - :  "  "  *  * . 


'•^7 


-i 


hn    iff   --:■*    :.■* 
^  :•:.-:--  r.  :   T  v 

iirioaata  to  ttndk  sim.    Ob  3 


: 
2  -.:  :.•_■  ji:t  v  :  . 


;  iur 


-':■»  ■■  t.ir.-i  v    ;  ,;  :.i-    :.:.-.;'::  i  :;---t 

- 
L      :  •    -.•    •    •  ■  •.;  "     •   : ■       ••     .-.  t 

.  Iiv  §am,  vide  the  4m«Ml  Ua  «Rf&karg}bv- 


THE     SHOPPING      PART  Y.  '21 

ing  cheeks,  and  her  lips  began   to  quiver,  as  it*  a  burs:  ot 
tears  were  struggling  upward. 

"Mother,"  said  the  young  gentleman,  in  a  low  voice, 
'■  the  counter  would  be  a  better  place." 

••"No.  do!"  broke  in  the  very  positive  young  person, 
whom  the  elder  lady  addressed  as  "Miss  Spicer,  who  loaned 
forward  and  touched  the  shoulder  over  which  the  shawl  was 
draped  with  her  parasol.  ""Nothing  like  a  live  person  to 
carry  off  a  thing  like  this.  Please  move  forward  and  let  us 
see  how  i:  fails  upon  the  train.      Superb,  isn't  it?  " 

Eva  Laurence  lifted  her  eyelids  with  a  sudden  flash,  and 
stepped  back  from  the  insolent  touch  of  that  parasol,  with  a 
gesture  at  once  haughty  and  graceful.  [Then, remembering 
what  was  expected  of  her.  she  moved  across  the  floor,  display- 
ing the  shawl  in  every  fold  as  it  swept  from  her  shoulders. 
down  the  long,  black  train  of  her  dress.  All  other  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  garment,  but  young  Lambert  saw  that 
her  bosom  heaved,  and  the  hands  folded  over  the  shawl 
trembled.  He  was  turning  away,  touched  by  this  evidence 
of  painful  embarrassment,  when  Miss  Spicer  darted  forward, 
seized  upon  Eva's  train,  and  spread  it  out  upon  the  floor, 
exclaiming. 

••There  now,  that's  something  like.     Isn't  it  superb?" 

"It  is.  indeed!"  answered  Mrs.  Lambert,  surveying  the 
tall,  well-formed  girl  with  her  glass.  B  What  do  you  think, 
of  it  Ivan  ?  " 

••What  do  I  think,  mother?  Why,  that  the  young  lady 
will  be  tired  to  death  before  you  have  made  up  your  mind. 
Permit  me " 

Here  young  Lambert  lifted  the  shawl  gently  from  Era's 
shoulders,  and  laid  it  on  the  counter. 

Eva  drew  a  deep  breath  and  moved  off  to  a  window, 
resentful  and  hurt,  she  could  scarcely  tell  why — for  had  she 
not  come  to  that  place  for  the  very  purpose  that  wounded 
her  so  ?     Did  she  not  receive  extra  compensation  because 


28  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

her  statel}7  figure  carried  off  those  costly  garments  to  such 
advantage  ?  What  right  had  she  that  this  patrician  party 
had  invaded? 

Still  the  girl's  cheek  burned,  and  her  shoulders  felt  heavy, 
as  if  a  burden  more  oppressive  than  twenty  shawls  bore 
them  down. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    GIRL    OF    THE    TIMES. 

"While  Mrs.  Lambert  was  completing  the  purchase  of 
her  shawl,  the  young  man  moved  quietty  about  the  room, 
carrying  his  cane  in  one  well-gloved  hand,  with  which  he 
manifested  a  little  impatience,  as  most  men  do  when  forced 
into  a  shopping  excursion  with  members  of  their  own 
family;  but,  with  all  his  restlessness,  lie  kept  Eva  Laurence 
well  in  view,  wondering  in  his  heart  who  she  was,  and  how 
she  came  to  be  in  that  strange  position. 

Miss  Spicer,  too,  had  her  curiosity.  Troubled  with  no 
sensitive  hesitation,  she  watched  the  girl  in  a  bold,  staring 
way,  now  and  then  turning  a  quizzical  look  on  young  Lam- 
bert, which  brought  the  color  to  his  face. 

"Stylish,  ha!"  she  whispered,  taking  the  young  man's 
cane  from  his  hand.  "  Stop  here  often  after  this,  I  dare  say 
—  I  would  if  I  carried  one  of  these  things." 

The  young  lad}'  gave  emphasis  to  her  words  by  a  dashing 
flourish  of  the  cane,  which,  being  a  flexible,  gold-mounted 
affair,  she  was  twisting  hack  and  Forth  in  her  hands. 

The  young  gentleman  made  a  gesture  as  if  to  reclaim  his 
property. 

Miss  Spicer  gave  np  the  cane. 

lira  Laurence  saw  all  this,  though  her  drooping  eyes 
seemed  fixed  on  the.  iluur,  and  the  proud  heart  hurned  with- 


THE      GIRL      OF     THE     TIMES.  29 

in  her ;  for  now  and  then  Miss  Spicer  glanced  across  the 
piles  of  merchandise  to  where  she  stood,  taking  no  pains  to 
conceal  that  she  was  an  object  of  curiosity,  if  not  of  con- 
versation. 

"  There  now,  don't  look  so  savage,  my  friend,"  said  the 
lady,  (l  and  you  shall  see  what  a  chance  I  will  give  you  for 
a  second  survey." 

Before  young  Lambert  could  answer,  the  reckless  creature 
had  called  another  clerk  to  her  side. 

'■This  velvet  cloak,"  she  said,  "I  should  like  to  see  it 
tried  on.     Please  call  the  young  person." 

The  clerk  stepped  over  to  Eva  Laurence,  and  spoke  to 
her.  She  looked  up  quickly,  bent  her  head,  and  came  across 
the  room,  almost  smiling  the  contempt  she  felt  for  that  rucle 
girl,  who  onl}'  seemed  the  more  plebeian  from  the  fact  that 
her  coarseness  was  smothered  in  purple  and  fine  linen. 

"Without  a  word  Eva  invested  herself  in  the  velvet  gar- 
ment, and  with  its  rich,  deep  laces  settling  round  her,  stood 
out  in  the  midst  of  the  open  space  to  be  examined,  looking 
gravely  and  quietly  on  the  group  that  gathered  around 
her. 

Then  the  ladies  fell  to  examining  the  cloak  by  detail; 
handling  its  glossy  folds,  criticising  the  pattern  of  the  lace, 
and  exclaiming  at  the  perfect  fit;  while  Spicer  turned  the 
shrinking  girl  round,  and  jerked  the  cloak  in  and  out  of 
place,  as  if  that  proud,  sensitive  creature  were  a  mere  lay- 
figure,  with  a  wooden  soul,  created  for  her  amusement. 

"  There  now,  Mr.  Lambert,  tell  me  if  this  is  not  per- 
fect ?  " 

Miss  Spicer  turned  as  she  spoke ;  but  the  gentleman,  for 
whom  all  this  display  had  been  gotten  up,  was  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room,  looking  diligently  out  of  the  window. 

"  Mr.  Lambert !  Mr.  Lambert !  Come  ;  we  want  your 
opinion/'  cried  Miss  Spicer,  so  loudly  that  every  one  in  the 
room  could  hear. 


SO  tBI    StltNIl 

'•I  beg  yoor  pardon,"  b  voting  bmm,  btashing 

with  .in.  ntlemen  are  no  ji  such 

thingt 

a  Iked   toward  him,  grasping  her  | 
if  it  had  been  a  spear,  with  v\ h ioh  b!  him 

through. 

K     v,  this  is  too  had.  after  all  the  pains  1  hrr  . 
Tome  alone;.  1   say.*' 

Lambert  turned  from   the  window  and  followed  his  tor- 
mentor.     He  did  not  even  glance  at    Eva   Laur. 

"  Mother.  1  have  an  engagement;  pr.  me." 

"An  engagement — gone  !     The  i.l< 
With  this  exclamation.  Miss  S       or  turned  from   tl 
she  had  tortured,  and  the  cloak  she  did  ha 

ire  oC  the  hand,  meant   to  indicate  that  she  had  done 
with  the  whole  affair,  and  became  all  at  once   imps 
leave  the  establishment. 

Lambert,  who  had  concluded  her  purchase,  and  had 
been   standing  an  amused  spectator  of  her  friend's 

now  ready  to  go;  and    Eva  saw  them  <i  h  a 

feeling  of  resentful  humiliation,  which   brought  a  hot  red  to 
her  cheeks,  and  mingled  fire  and  tears  to  her  c 

Q  find  it  hard."  said  a  voice  at  bet  elbow.      ••  ^ 
rebe]  at  first  ;   but  time  and  patience  do  WOi 

a  who  spoke  was  a  slight,  dark-eyed  man.  about 
thirty-five  or  forty  years  of  age,  whose  low,  kind   vo 
gently  on  her  disturbed  senses. 

'•  "\  es,  it  is  hard,"   answered  Kva  ;  and  the  tear-     : 
gathering  in  her  eyes  flashed  over  the  vivid  rod 
cheeks,  and  melted  there  like  dew  upon  a  peack.     "1 
not  expect  tins — 1  thought  that  1: 
I 

her  fellow  clerk,  "  that  mom 
the  refi;:. 


THE     GIBL     OF     THE     TIM] 

'-?..'.  \.  :.-.:-,:■    '.  ■:-.  \':-.r.    :::.:,■-    ::>.-.    ■  ;    ■■::   .:■.■.■.:  — 
v ;  i :  ;■  ■/: :  ':..„-  >';.■-.  v.  ::.  . '  c_v    v. ;.     -;  I  ':  _t-:  ;. -.-.      ■; 

A..  '.':-.:-.  .,-.  :':.-.  .  :  •-.:;•  :■:•.:.'■■  :-.:■■:  :■:  :::--■: 
tbatag*  as  titer  axe  and  isii4  be.  The  law  gbres  tier  a 
:'.:-..  • .-  v, '•  .  .'■  ■,_■;_■■_  ■_■_  ■-,  -.'■>-.  :--•  •■:•.:■• .  •■ :  — .:  -i  \\~.  :'--.-  •.:' 
her  birth;  brat  nature  withheld  front  her  many  things  Car 


>.  -    >:  .  ;.  •  :■:  ■.:-":  1      ..V.;       ••.:-.:       :■.•.:•;-       /  •:  .'      V,  .  _  :_  :r_     ;;     .,      '_ 

!.'.'.  •:    '..:  ::.=:   >-.•;::   '. : .  i :~  .  \ : .  .  v.  :._•.-.- \  .  •:  :._'■-.  • 

■  I-  '.■.:-.  :.  .  ■•:.;■  ;.  -,-.';  .'■  .,  -,..._•  _■  -  .,.-.  :  •-.  .-:  \h :■-.■=:'.: 
-■■.:    .  .:  ■:.:::  :.;  :     ■.■-.   :  v..:  .:.:..:•  '.'  '     ■:-.  HZ.'.±.—-.i. 

"-    -.  :: :'••-.•;  :...:  '■-.-.. 

■  '..  .  .-:■■..  :-.■..■:  :-.:-:■■.-.-.:.'.  :.':.-.  ly:  :.:..:.-.  2.  :.: 
nothing  when  joined  with  honest  labor?  w 

"Yes,  child,  as  Ihej  enehanee  the  value  of  that  labor." 
"And  labor  is  slaTery/*  murmured  the  girl,  looking 
v.  •--.:;  v.^  :::■■-.'.  v. .:.  ;  .••,-.  :.^v.  •.  .-.  -..'..'.  :;.^  ■-:'••.,  •...- 
breaking  in  bright  wares  of  snVer.  "That  girl  is  her  own 
:.-.  •.:;  —  : — ..-.-.  _-.  ■■-■■. -.:-.  ■...-  v.  — :-.-  -.-,-.•_:  ...-.-  -  ..... — 
wound  others  if  she  likes,  without  rebuke  or  compunction." 
•"'•'.--;..  .:.  *..::'-:••...- :.  :  "  .^•:..:-.::.;::^. 
v.:  .  .  -:-.:.■: ;  v.-.:.  *  -••/,•,  ::.-.  ^ 

."  -        I  -..:;..:       .:.'  •.  :  ■   ■  .-   :  .  ■••■    '•;-.-  --   ;.    .;. 

poor  girl  can  feel,  no  amount  of  prosperity  could  induce  me 
to  wound  one  as — as  that  girl  has  hurt  me.     If  I 

A,  if  you  were  rich?    What  then  ?» 

■■  -  ".-.;  :':..:.'■:  .:'  ;:':.-.:■•.  -.-■-.  v.v  -.t -.-•_;:'-.  v.  ::.-^y-  ; \: _■■-.-.--. 
:--"•  ;  ■•  -  -  ■  !•'  -  _•  :'■  '■'■''  -  ■-.  -'  •'■■--  -  ':■-.  ■-.':  .:  . :  -.  :  r--.: 
room  like  this,  to  show  off  garments  for  happier  woman  to 

V.::;.;.   ' 

:  it  is  only  a  little  time  since  you  were  so  glad  to 


29 


THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 


Eva's  face  changed  and  the  cloud  was  swept  from  it  as  if 
by  a  flash  of  lightning.     She  reached  forth  her  hand. 

"You  think  me  impatient,  and  so  I  am  ;  ungrateful — but 
that  I  am  not.  I  was  glad  to  come  here — so  glad  !  The 
sweetest  hour  of  my  life  will  be  that  in  which  I  carry  home 
my  first  week's  wages,  and  see  those  poor,  dear  faces  bright- 
en with  a  sight  of  the  money.  How  can  I  be  so  unreason- 
able ?     Forgive  me  !  " 


CHAPTER    III. 

A     HUMBLE     HOME. 


Up  town,  where  vacant  lots  can  still  be  found,  stood  a 
small  wooden  building,  scarcely  more  than  a  shantie  in  di- 
mensions, but  perfectly  finished,  so  far  as  it  went,  and  neat 
in  all  its  appointments  as  an}T  palace.  Two  small  rooms  on 
the  first  floor,  and  a  like  number  of  sleeping  chambers,  with 
their  ceilings  in  the  roof,  took  up  the  entire  length  and 
breadth  of  the  building.  The  little  space  of  ground,  not 
occupied  by  the  building,  was  given  up  to  turf  and  bright- 
ened  with  flowers,  which  climbed  the  fences  and  ran  up  the 
little  portico,  as  leaves  cluster  around  a  bird's-nest  in  the 
spring.  Indeed,  that  little  spot  of  earth  was  lovely.  In  the 
cool  of  the  day,  thousands  of  purple  and  pink  morning  glo- 
ries shook  the  dew  from  their  delicate  bells,  and,  at  all  hours 
-  of  scarlet  beans,  cypress-vines,  and  sweet  scented 
clematis,  kept  the  little  enclosure  bright  and  beautiful, 
week  in  and  week  out,  so  long  as  the  season  lasted. 

The  house  itself  contained  little  of  value.  Curtains  of 
clicap  muslin,  white  as  snow,  through  which  you  could  Bee  a 
thousand  delicate  shadows  from  tho  flowers  outside,  shaded 
tlie  windows. 


A      HUMBLE      HOME.  33 

In  the  front  room  was  a  pretty  chintz  couch,  home-made, 
with  dainty  cushions,  and  an  easy-chair  to  match,  the  work- 
manship of  some  strong,  deft  hand  in  the  first  construction, 
and  finished  up  by  the  taste,  still  more  perfect,  of  a  woman, 
to  whom  the  aesthetic  influence  was  second  nature. 

Two  or  three  really  fine  engravings  were  on  the  walls,  and 
in  one  corner  stood  a  straight-legged,  old  piano,  with  an  em- 
broidered stool. 

Two  persons  sat  in  this  room,  at  nightfall,  on  the  day 
Eva  Laurence  made  her  little  outburst  of  pride  in  that  fash- 
ionable establishment  down  town.  One  was  a  tall,  spare 
woman,  about  fifty  years  of  age,  perhaps,  originally  from 
New  England,  as  you  might  detect  from  a  certain  peculiar- 
ity of  speech,  and  the  constant  occupation  she  found  for  her 
hands,  even  while  seated  in  that  roomy  easy-chair.  The 
other  was  a  young  girl,  seemingly  about  fourteen  at  a  first 
glance;  but  on  a  second  look,  you  saw  traces  of  thought 
and  of  pain  on  that  noble  face,  which  took  your  judgment 
in  a  few  j'ears.  The  girl  was  near  the  age  of  her  sister 
Eva;  in  fact,  there  was  not  a  year  between  them,  and  if 
that  had  been  all,  they  might  have  passed  for  twins.  But 
there  the  resemblance  ended.  Nothing  could  be  more  un- 
like the  rich  coloring  and  perfect  figure  of  Eva  than  the 
pale  delicacy  and  wonderful  expression  of  this  girl  on  the 
couch. 

"  Mother ! " 

How  sweet  and  low  that  voice  was !  This  one  incom- 
parable word  seemed  rippling  off  into  music,  full  of  tender- 
ness and  gentle  pathos. 

"  Well,  Ruth,  what  is  it  ?     Shall  I  move  the  cushions?" 

"No,  mother;  but  you  seem  thoughtful.  Has  anything 
gone  wrong  that  I  do  not  know  of?" 

"  Wrong  ?     No  !     It  is  only  the  one  old  trouble  !  " 

"The  house?" 
2 


34  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"Yes.  I  am  afraid,  Ruth,  that  we  shall  have  to  give  it 
up.     The  mortgage  will  be  due  this  year " 

"  But  Eva  thought " 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  know.  If  she  had  only  got  her  situation  a 
little  earlier,  there  might  have  been  some  chance;  but  the 
lot  is  growing  more  valuable  all  the  time,  and  Mr.  Clapp  is 
a  grasping  man." 

Ruth  Laurence  clasped  her  hands,  and  turned  her  eyes 
upon  the  wall. 

"  Oh  !  how  helpless  I  am!"  she  said,  with  a  thrill  of 
pathetic  pain  in  her  voice.     "  If  we  could  both  work  now." 

"  But  that  is  impossible.  Besides,  what  would  the  house 
be  without  you — a  cage  without  its  bird  ?  " 

That  moment,  a  brave,  young  voice  came  singing  up  to 
the  front-door  of  that  tiny  house,  and  a  bright  face  leaned 
through  the  open  window,  under  which  Ruth  was  lying,  and 
shook  some  ripe  leaves  from  the  vines  upon  her. 

"All  right — both  here,"  cried  as  fine  a  school-boy  as  you 
ever  sat  eyes  on,  swinging  a  package  of  books  down  from 
his  shoulder,  and  coming  through  the  little  hall.  "  I've  got 
along  famously,  mother:  not  a  demerit.  But  what  makes 
you  look  so  sober?" 

The  lad  seemed  to  lose  something  of  his  bright  animation 
as  he  entered  that  humble  parlor  and  saw  his  mother's 
anxious  face,  his  large  gre}-  eyes  clouded  over  with  anxiety 
and  he  stood  a  moment  gazing  mutely  upon  her. 

"Well,  mother,"  he  said  at  last,   "has  Eva  come  home 

yet?     She  promised  us  a  famous  Bupper  when   those  people 

paid  her,  and  I'm  on  hand  for  it.  if  ever  a  little  chap  was. 

here  yet,  yon  Bay  I     Now    that's   what  I  call  rough! 

I  •  '•  it,  Bistei  Ruth?" 

"  She  will  be  home  soon,"  answered  sister  Ruth,  returning 
the  boy's  kiss  with  a  gentle  Bigh. 

••  How  cold  your  lips  an'!"  exclaimed  the  hoy,  and  a 
of  tender  trouble  came  into  his  eyes.      "  Is  it  because  you 


A     HUMBLE      HOME.  35 

are  hungry,  sister  Buth  ?  If  it  is,  I'll — I'll  go  and  sell  my 
school-books,  and  play  hookey  after  it,  to  get  you  something 
to  eat.  As  for  me,  I  was  only  in  fan.  A  chap  of  my  age 
don't  want  much,  you  know." 

"But  the  books  are  not  yours,  dear,"  answered  the  sweet, 
sad  voice  from  the  couch ;  "they  belong  to  the  city." 

The  boy  stood  still  a  moment  while  the  slow  color  mounted 
to  his  face. 

"I  know  that,"  he  answered,  almost  crying;  " but  just 
then  they  seemed  to  be  mine,  dear  old  friends,  ready  to  go 
anywhere  for  my  good.  Anyway,  if  I  was  a  fairy  now, 
every  one  of  them  should  turn  into  something  good  to  eat; 
bread  for  me,  and  pound-cake  for  mother,  and — and " 

"  Beef-steak  for  us  all ! "  said  the  mother,  joining  in  the 
conversation. 

The  boy  drew  in  his  breath  and  smacked  his  lips,  as  if  the 
very  idea  of  a  warm  beef-steak  were  a  delicious  morsel  to  be 
tasted  and  lingered  over. 

"  Oh,  that !  but  then  one  must  not  be  extravagant.  Who 
knows  !  Eva  may  come  back  with  a  whole  pocket  full  of 
rocks!"  the  boy  broke  forth,  after  a  moment  of  dull 
despondency.  "  Come,  mother,  cheer  up,  something  good  is 
going  to  happen.     I  feel  it  in  my  bones." 

Mrs.  Laurence  arose  feebly  from  her  chair,  took  the  boy's 
head  between  her  hands  and  kissed  him,  with  a  sort  of  slow 
restrained  passion,  half  a  dozen  times,  as  if  she  thought 
each  kiss  could  be  coined  into  food  for  bis  hungry  lips. 

"Are  you  so  very " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  cried  the  lad,  shaking  his  head  free, 
and  making  a  dive  at  his  books,  that  the  poor  mother  might 
not  see  his  hard  struggle  to  keep  from  crying.  "Hungry, 
oh,  no !  Didn't  one  of  the  big  boys  give  me  half  his 
lunch?  That's  a  roundabout  whopper,  I  know,"  he 
muttered  to  himself;  "but  them  eyes,  I  couldn't  stand  'em, 
and   she    been    sick  so   long.     Capital    lunch    it  was,  too : 


36  T  TI  E      REIGNING      BELLE. 

corned  beef  sandwiches  and  pickles —  famous!  So  just 
think  of  yourself,  mother,  not  me.  But  here  comes  Eva. 
Hurra ! " 

Sure  enongh,  that  moment  Eva  Laurence  came  through 
the  little  gate,  sad,  weary,  and  despondent,  moving  through 
the  duskj'  flowers  like  a  spirit  of  night.  She  entered  the 
little  sitting-room,  and  going  directly  up  to  her  mother,  kiss- 
ed her  in  silence.  Then  she  sat  down  on  an  edge  of  the 
couch,  looked  tenderly  upon  her  invalid  sister,  and  whispered 
to  her, 

"Have  you  had  nothing?  Has  no  raven  or  dove  from 
Heaven  come  to  feed  you,  my  poor  darling?" 

Ruth  shook  her  head,  and  tried  to  smile. 

"It  is  mother  who  needs  it  most,"  she  said.  "She  is  not 
used  to  being  ill,  poor  darling,  and  did  without  so  long  her- 
self before  she  would  own  that  we  were  getting  short.  Have 
you  brought  nothing  for  her?" 

Eva  shook  her  head,  and  whispered,  "I  did  ask.  Don't 
think  me  a  coward,  Ruth,  but  the)'  will  not  break  their 
rules,  down  there,  for  anyone." 

'■  What  can  we  do?"  cried  the  sick  girl,  clasping  her 
hands.  "I  can  wait,  but  mother  and  poor  Jim?  Then 
yuu  will  break  down." 

"No,"  answered  Eva,  almost  bitterly.  "Mr.  Harald  lias 
insisted  on  sharing  his  lunch  with  me  every  day — that  is 
the  worst  of  it.  I  am  kept  strong  and  rosy,  while  you  and 
mother,  who  need  wholesome  food  much  more,  are  left  here 
to  suffer.  You  don't  know,  Ruthy,  dear,  how  1  have  longed 
for  an  opportunity  to  hide  some  of  his  nice  things  away,  and 
bring  them  home;  but  he  always  eats  with  mo,  and  I  havo 
no  courage  to  speak.  So  I  feast  like  a  princess,  and  feel 
guilty  as  a  thief." 

"But  you  need  Btrength  BO  much  more  than  we  do," 
answered  Ruth,  clasping  he*  pale  hands  over  Kva's  oeck, 
and  kissing  her  beautiful  face.  "  It  would  break  my  heart 
to  see  you  growing  pale  and  thin  like  the  rest  of  us." 


A      HUMBLE     HOME,  61 

Eva  sprang  to  her  feet,  stung  with  unreasonable  con- 
trition for  having  tasted  the  food  she  could  not  share  with 
those  she  loved. 

"What  can  I  do?  Is  there  nothing  left?  If  we  could 
only  bridge  over  the  next  two  days — but  how?" 

"Just  you  hold  on,"  said  little  Jim,  pitching  his  pile  of 
books  into  the  next  room,  and  shutting  the  door  upon  them 
with  a  bang,  as  if  nothing  less  than  a  great  effort  could  free 
him  from  temptation.  "Just  you  hold  on.  This  is  a  free 
country,  and  every  American  has  a  right  to  have  something 
to  eat ;  yes,  and  be  President  of  the  United  States,  if  the 
whole  people  want  him  to — not  to  speak  of  women  who 
haven't  got  their  inalienable  rights  to  be  men  just  yet,  but 
are  hungry  and  thirsty  just  the  same.  Give  me  a  chance? 
now." 

Out  of  the  house  James  Laurence  went,  putting  on  his 
thread-bare  cap  as  he  ran.  The  women  he  left  looked  at 
each  other,  and  almost  smiled,  his  enthusiasm  was  so  conta- 
gious. 

"Where  can  he  have  gone,  what  is  the  boy  thinking  of," 
said  Eva,  untying  her  shabby  little  bonnet,  and  sitting 
down  in  helpless  expectation.  Ruth  looked  up,  smiling. 
She  had  great  faith  in  little  Jim,  and,  spite  of  all  the  sweet 
patience  which  made  her  character  so  loveljT,  thought,  with 
keen  physical  longing,  of  the  good  which  might  possibly 
come  out  of  his  sudden  resolution. 

"We  never  know  what  ideas  our  blessed  Lord  may 
give  to  a  child,"  she  said  ;  "  besides,  it  does  seem  impossible 
that,  in  a  country  like  this,  God's  innocent  creatures  can 
be  left  to  starve.  I  think  Jim  will  come  back  at  least  with 
a  loaf  of  bread;  the  man  who  refused  us  may  trust  him. 
Let  us  wait  and  see." 

This  sweet  prophecy  fell  so  tranquilly  on  the  soft,  sum- 
mer air  that,  spite  of  themselves,  these  women  began  to 
hope. 


GO  T  II  K      REIGNING      BELLE. 

CHAPTER   IV. 

LITTLE    JIMMY    GOES    AFTER    WORK. 

Little  James  Laurence  gave  himself  no  time  for  cow- 
ardly thoughts,  hut  rau  bravely  towards  a  grocery  store, 
where  the  family  provisions  had  been  bought  in  better  times, 
but  where  all  credit  for  their  present  necessities  was  now 
curtly  refused. 

The  proprietor  of  this  store  had  fortunately  gone  out, 
and  his  wife  stood  behind  the  counter,  serving  a  customer. 
She  was  a  stout,  matronly  body,  with  clear,  light -blue 
eyes,  and  a  pleasant  smile,  which  was  turned  with  more 
than  usual  kindness  on  the  boy  as  he  entered  almost  upon 
the  run.  Something  in  that  young  face,  in  the  large,  eager 
eyes,  and  restless  mouth,  struck  her  with  a  vague  idea  of 
commiseration.  When  her  customer  went  out.  carrying  a 
brown  paper  parcel,  she  folded  her  plump,  round  arms  on 
the  counter,  and  leaning  over  them  in  a  luxuriously  cozy 
position,  accosted  the  boy. 

'•  Well,  Jimmy,  what  shall  we  put  up  for  you  ?  One 
never  sees  any  of  your  folks  lately.  Seem  to  have  took 
their  trade  somewhere  else?" 

James  went  close  up  to  the  counter,  and  fixed  his  great, 
hungry  eyes  on  hers:  the  light  from  a  Bwinging  lamp  over- 
head fell  upon  his  face,  and  the  kind  woman  read  something 
there  that  made  her  heart  ache. 

'•Why,  Jimmj,  my  dear   hoy.  what  is  it?     Xo   trouble.  I 

hope,  beyond  the  great  loss  ?  " 

Had  the  woman  been  cold  or  angry,  that  brave  boy  would 
have  faced  both  without  a  tear ;  hut  now,  sudden  moisture 

sparkled  in    his   eyes,  and    he    winked   his   long,  black  lashes 
over  and  over  again  to  break  it  up  while  he  was  speaking. 


LITTLE      JIMMY      GOES      AFTER      WORK.         39 

"  We  haven't  traded  here  lately,  Mrs.  Smith,  because  we 
had  no  money,  and  your  husband  got  tired  of  trusting.'5 

"  Who  told  you  so  ?  " 

"  He  did.'' 

n  Then  he Well,  he's  one  of  the  best  fellows  that 

ever  lived.  Does  it  all  for  the  sake  of  me  and  the  children 
— you  must  understand  that,  youngster.  He's  generous  as 
the  day,  is  my  husband.  Xow  what  is  it  you  waut  just  at 
present  ?  " 

<•  Mrs.  Smith,  we  haven't  had  anything  to  eat  in  our 
house  these  three  days." 

The  boy's  voice  broke  as  he  said  this,  and  tears  fell  from 
the  eyes  he  lifted  to  that  woman's  face,  whose  kindness  he 
could  only  see  through  a  mist. 

"Not  had  anything  to  eat  in  three  days,  and  I  here! 
Oh,  Jimmy  Laurence!  what  were  you  all  thiuki:!g  about? 
It's  too  bad,  there  !  " 

Mrs.  Smith  drew  a  plump  arm  across  her  eyes  as  she 
spoke,  then  seizing  the  lad  by  both  hands,  she  fell  to  kissing 
him  over  the  counter,  then  gave  him  a  box  on  the  ear,  and 
pushed  him  away. 

'■Why  didn't  you  come  to  me?  Why  didn't  your  mother 
just  step  over  and  tell  me  about  it?     Business  is  business, 

but  this I've  no  patience  with  you,  Jimmy  Laurence, 

nor  none  of  your  tribe." 

'•'  But  we  did  not  know.     He  said " 

"He  said.  He  can  say  anything  he  likes  when  there's 
no  woman  by  with  a  will  of  her  own.  Xow  come  round 
here  this  very  minute  and  tell  me  what  you  want  " 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Smith,  you  are  so  good  !  I  didn't  mean  to 
beg  for  things,  or  run  in  debt  more  than  we  have  ;  but  we 
must  have  something  to  eat,  or — or  more  of  us  will  be  down 
sick ;  but  I  mean  to  work  for  it — that  is  what  I  came  for. 
There  is  a  load  of  coal  coming  to-morrow  morning.  I  want 
to  bring  it  in  for  you." 


40  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

"You,  Jimmy!  You  bring  in  coal,  poor,  slender,  pale- 
faced  darling !  " 

Little  Jim  flushed  all  over  at  this  insinuation  against  his 
manliness,  and  rolling  up  the  sleeve  of  his  jacket,  exposed  a 
delicate,  white  arm,  with  the  little  hand  clenched,  and  blue 
veins  thus  forced  to  notice  on  the  wrist. 

"  See,  Mrs.  Smith,"  he  said,  "  there's  muscle  for  a  boy ; 
lean,  but  tough — just  feel  it." 

Mrs.  Smith  did  span  the  delicate  wrist  with  her  thumb 
and  finger,  feeling  the  quick  pulse  stir  feebly  to  the  touch, 
and  turned  away  her  face  to  keep  the  boy  from  seeing  how 
close  she  was  to  tears — an  unusual  thing  with  her. 

"Yes,  I  see;  not  much  flesh  to  spare." 

"No;  some  fellows  have  lots,  you  know — but  that  don't 
make  'em  powerful.  Mrs.  Smith,  just  look  at  the  boys  that 
ride  circus  horses,  and  jump  through  hoops,  how  lean  they 
keep  'em.  Just  let  me  feed  up  a  little,  and  I  shall  be  in 
prime  working  order." 

"Well,"  answered  the  woman,  laughing  away  the  tears 
that  had  actually  begun  to  float  in  her  blue  eyes,  "  we  will 
feed  you  up  and  try." 

"That's  splendid,"  cried  the  boy,  pulling  down  his  jacket- 
sleeve,  which  was  far  too  short,  and  woefully  threadbare. 
"Then  I  was  thinking  of  another  thing.  Saturday  nights 
you  are  so  busy,  and  have  lots  of  things  to  carry  home — 
couldn't  I  do  some  of  that  just  as  well  as  the  bigger  boys? 
You  don't  know  how  spry  I  am.  Now  a  basket  like  that  is 
nothing  to  me." 

Here  the  noble  little  fellow  lifted  down  a  basket  of 
groceries  that  stood  on  the  counter,  ready  to  be  carried 
home,  and  dragged  it,  staggering  and  breathless,  across  the 
floor,  where  he  gave  way  and  fell  across  it,  utterly  insen- 
sible. 

Good  Mrs.  Smith  ran  around  the  counter  and  lifted  the 
poor  little  fellow  in  her   arms.     Then  she  sat  down  on  a 


LITTLE     JIMMY      GOES      AFTER      WORK.       41 

candle-box,  and  pressing  that  pale  head  to  her  bosom,  began 
to  pat  hito  on  the  back,  rub  his  hands,  and  push  the  hair 
off  from  his  forehead  with  quick,  motherly  tenderness. 
This  flamed  up  to  generous  rage  when  her  husband  came  in 
with  his  fresh,  prosperous  look,  and  asked  her  what  she  was 
about,  and  what  boy  she  was  hugging. 

"  Come  and  look  for  yourself,  John  Smith,  and  if  you  are 
not  quite  a  heathen  and  Sandwich  Island  hottentot,  ask 
God  to  forgive  your  cruelty.  Look  at  that  face ;  look  at 
these  limp,  little  hands ;  just  go  to  the  door  and  look  down 
street  towards  the  house,  where  all  those  morning  glories 
only  cover  up  starvation.  You  brought  it  on,  Smith  ;  you 
refused  them  credit  when  they  hadn't  another  place  to  go 
to,  and  the  poor  things  are  just  starved  out — starved  out ! 
Do  you  hear  me,  John  Smith  ?  And  one  of  'em,  for  any- 
thing I  know,  dead  in  your  wife's  arms  —  just  an  awful 
judgment  against  you  if  he  is — poor,  sweet,  innocent  dar- 
ling, as  wanted  only  to  work  for  a  morsel  of  bread.  He 
work?     John  Smith,  I  hate  you  !" 

"Come,  come,  old  woman.  Isn't  this  going  a  little 
rough?"  said  the  grocer,  quite  bewildered,  and  taken  aback 
by  this  assault  from  the  most  genial  and  kind  creature  in 
the  world.  "What  has  got  into  your  head,  and  who  is  that 
in  your  arms  ?  " 

"Who?  don't  ask  me.  It's  little  Jimmy  Laurence,  the 
son  of  that  splendid  policeman,  who  was  shot  down  in  the 
street  by  a  highway  burglar;  one  of  the  steadiest  customers 
you  had  when  we  wanted  custom  bad  enough,  mercy  knows. 
He's  just  starved  out,  mother,  sisters  and  all,  and  you've 
done  it  by  telling  them  you  couldn't  trust  any  longer;  but 
I'll  pay  you  off.  They  shall  have  everything  they  want,  if 
it's  half  the  store.  I'll  send  for  carts,  and  have  the  whole 
stock  moved  into  their  kitchen.  How  can  you  look  me  in 
the  face,  John  Smith  ?  Bring  me  some  water,  brandy,  pep- 
permint, hartshorn.  Can't  you  step  about?  Or  do  you 
want  to  kill  him  over  again?     There!" 


42  THE     REIGNING      BKLLE. 

CHAPTEE    V. 

A    FEAST    AFTER   A    FAMINE. 

Jons*  Smith  had  done  his  best  to  obey  these  confused 
demands.  He  brought  water,  and  held  it  in  a  stone  pitcher, 
while  Mrs.  Smith  thrust  her  hand  to  the  bottom  and  sprinkled 
little  Jimmy's  face;  but  this  failed  to  bring  a  sign  of  life  back. 
So  he  put  down  the  pitcher,  and  brought  a  little  tin  measure 
half-full  of  brandy,  from  some  secret  corner  back  in  the  store, 
which  his  better  half  snatched  from  him  and  held  to  those 
pale  lips.  Some  drops  trickled  through  the  teeth  that  had 
fallen  slightly  apart,  and,  after  a  little,  the  boy  began  to  stir. 
Then  the  good  woman  burst  into  tears  that  came  in  a  tor- 
rent, deluging  all  the  full-blown  roses  in  her  cheeks,  and 
shaking  her  bosom  with  sobs. 

'•There,"  she  cried  holding  the  lad  out  on  her  lap  as  he 
struggled  to  life  again;  "take  him,  heft  him,  make  sure 
what  a  shadow  he  is  ;  then  down  upon  }rour  knees,  John 
Smith,  and  thank  God  that  j'ou're  not  quite  a  murderer! 
Your  meanness  will  be  the  death  of  me  yet.  Now  I  warn 
you.  Me  and  the  children,  your  duty  to  take  care  of  us  ? 
John  Smith,  Juhn  Smith,  now  don't  get  me  out  of 
patience." 

;-  Well,  then,  what  if  I  say  that  I  am  sorry — right  down 
sorry  ?  " 

"  In  that  case,  John  Smith " 

"That  I  will  let  them  have  anything  they  want,  without 
charging  till  better  times  come  round,"  continued  the  gro- 
cer, soaking  a  cracker  in  brandy,  and  feeding  it  in  frag- 
ments t<>  the  boy. 

"John — John  Smith,  I  always  did  say " 

"And  what  we  haven't  got,  I'll  go  right  out  and  buy 
with  our  own    money — sausages,  beefsteak,  mutton-chops. 

"Will  that  pacify  yOU,  Mary  Jane'/" 


A     FEAST     AFTER      A      FAMINE.  43 

So  the  two  set  to  work  in  earnest,  while  little  James  looked 
on,  somewhat  faint  still,  and  pleasantly  bewildered,  with  a 
strong  taste  of  brandy  in  his  mouth,  and  a  warmth  in  his 
whole  system  that  he  had  not  felt  for  months. 

"Don't  take  too  much  of  that,  Jimmy  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Smith,  looking  up  from  the  basket  she  was  packing. 
"Dried-beef,  crackers,  tea,  bread;  just  stuff  in  a  codfish, 
Smith,  edgeways  down  this  side,  and  fill  up  the  chinks  with 
apples — them  red  ones  are  the  best.  As  I  was  saying, 
Jimmy,  one  cracker  can  soak  up  no  end  of  moisture,  and 
your  cheeks  are  getting  red.  Now,  Smith,  run  out,  and 
hurry  back  with  the  other  things." 

Smith  went  out,  and  his  wife,  in  her  rich  benevolence,  be- 
gan to  fill  innumerable  paper  bags  with  dried  prunes,  raisins, 
loaf-sugar,  and  other  little  dainties,  which,  in  her  eager  haste 
to  pack  up  substantials,  had  escaped  her  mind  till  then. 
These  she  pressed  down  into  the  basket,  and  stuffed  into 
her  own  pocket,  which  were  quite  full  when  her  husband  re- 
turned with  three  or  four  paper  parcels  in  his  hand,  looking 
more  radiant  than  any  man  who  had  bribed  his  wife's  for- 
giveness with  a  diamond  bracelet  could  have  done. 

"  Now,  wife,  you  are  ready  ?  " 

"Stop  a  minute.  John  Smith,  you  are  an  angel,  coat, 
boots,  and  all;  but  I've  thought  of  something.  Any  fire  in 
your  kitchen,  Jimmy,  dear?" 

"  No,  ma'am.      We  haven't  had  any  use  for  a  fire  lately  ! " 

"  Exactly.     No  wood,  no  coal  ?  " 

James  shook  his  head.  Mrs.  Smith  opened  a  side  door, 
and  called  to  some  one  in  the  upper  rooms,  in  which  her 
family  dwelt. 

"  Kate  !     Kate  Gorman  ! " 

"  Well,  marum,  what's  to  the  fore  now  ?  " 

"Come  down  stairs,  Kate — but  no  matter.  Is  there  a 
good  fire  in  the  range  ?" 

"  Never  a  better  !  " 


14  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"Then  take  this,  and  this;  broil  the  steak,  fry  the  ham, 
slice  up  the  cold  potatoes  left  after  dinner,  and  fry  thein  ; 
then  heat  some  tin  pans,  and  put  them  in." 

"  Thin  I'm  not  to  set  the  table,  niarum  ?  " 

"No.  Make  a  strong  pot  of  coffee,  and  one  of  tea.  bring 
'em  ln>t;  pickles,  mustard;  and  don't  forget  some  of  them 
straw  berry  preserves,  too." 

••  But  what  am  I  to  do  with  the  sa/ue,  Mistress  Smith  ?  " 

"Bring  them  all  over  to  the  little  white  house,  with  the 
morning  glories.  Open  the  gate  softly,  and  come  round  to 
the  back-door.      Step  down  here,  Kate,  and  I  will  tell  you.M 

Kate  stepped  down,  and  in  the  darkness  of  the  staii 
received  very  particular  instructions,  which  she  obeyed  im- 
plicitly. 

Then  Mrs.  Smith  returned  to  the  store,  took  up  the 
heavy  basket,  and  called  James. 

"Run  on  first,  now,"  she  said,  "and  keep  them  all  busy 
about  something;  take  half  a  dozen  apples,  and  give  them 
each  one;  then  step  back  and  let  me  into  the  kitchen.  It  is 
sure  to  be  ready  and  neat  as  wax.  I've  got  matches  here; 
then  keep  them  all  busy,  and  be  a  little  boisterous  till  I  get 
things  Bhip-shape." 

Little  James  obeyed;  and  a  few  moments  after  burst  in 
upon  the  mournful  silence  into  which  his  mother  and  sisters 
had  fallen,  with  eyes  as  bright  as  stars,  and  a  heap  of  red 
apples  in  his  arms. 

'•  Didn't  I  tell  you?"  he  cried  out.  pouring  the  apples 
into  Eva's  lap.  "  One.  two.  three,  four,  five.  One  a  piece, 
and  another  to  spare.  Here,  mother,  the  b  \  it  foryou, 
plump  ami  rosy  afi  Mrs.  Smith's  cheek,  and  smeliing  lus- 
There,  Ituthy,  darling,  I'll  get  a  knife  and  peel 
yooi 

"With  this  the  artful  little  rogue  ran  into  the  kitchen,  un- 
I  the  door,  and  seizing  on  a  knife,  was   back  again  in 
an  instant 


A      FEAST      AFTER      A      FAMINE.  45 

"No,  no,  James,  dear  !  We  must  not  waste  good  things 
like  that,"  said  Ruth,  holding  out  her  slender  hand  for  the 
fruit  which  she  regarded  with  longing  eyes.  "Put  away 
your  knife — I  am  in  a  hurry  for  my  apple/' 

James  sprang  to  her  couch,  held  the  apple  to  her  mouth, 
and  laughed  aloud  as  her  teeth  sunk  into  its  crimson  side. 

"Eva,  why  don't  you  pitch  into  yours?"  he  said. 
"Just  watch  Ruth,  then  see  how  mother  is  going  it." 

"  I  do  not  need  it.     These  two  will  keep  over." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  Keep  over,  of  course.  Well,  just  as  you 
like.      But  I  say.  let  to-morrow  take  care  of  itself.      '  Hi 

diddle   diddle,   the   cat's  in  the    fiddle,   the  cow '     No, 

that's  all  nonsense;  the  animal  couldn't  do  it,  but  I  could. 
There,  now,  what  do  people  have  foot-stools  lying  about 
loose  for.  One  step  more,  and  the  only  gentleman  of  this 
family  would  have  been  full  length  at  your  feet.     Mother!" 

The  boy  sprung  to  his  mother,  and  kneeling  before  her, 
pulled  down  the  hand  she  had  lifted  to  her  face,  and  kissed 
it  tenderly. 

"Oh,  mother!  I  thought  nothing  could  make  you  cry." 

"  I  am  growing  childish,  James  ;  sickness  weakens  one 
so,"  answered  the  woman,  who  was  usually  firm  as  iron. 
"  Besides,  gratitude  brings  tears  easy." 

"Yes,"  said  Ruth,  thoughtfully;  "for  rain,  there  must 
be  some  warmth  ;  the  cold,  bitter  days  only  bring  down  hail 
and  sleet." 

"Tell  us,"  said  the  mother,  wiping  her  eyes,  "where  did 
you  get  these  ?" 

"From  Mrs.  Smith,  mother.     Isn't  she  splendid?  " 

"  But  you  did  not  ask  her  again  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  did;  not  for  them,  but  to  let  me  work  for  some- 
thing to  keep  us  alive;  so  these  apples  were  handy,  you 
see,  and  I'm  going  lots  of  errands — never  you  fear!" 

"  How  they  set  one  craving  for  more,"  said  the  old  lady, 
who  had  the  great  hunger  of  a  past  fever  on  her,  which  was 


46  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

maddening — and  she  eyed  the  two  apples  in  Eva's  lap  rav- 
enously. 

Eva  reached  forth  one  of  the  apples,  but  James  put  it 
back,  shaking  his  head  playfully  at  the  mothers  greed. 

"Not  healthy  to  eat  too  much  at  once.  Wait  a  little, 
and  then " 

That  instant  the  door  leading  into  the  kitchen  was  flung 
open,  and  the  delicious  scent  of  hot  beef-steak  and  steam- 
ing coffee  filled  the  little  parlor.  Eva  and  Mrs.  Laurence 
started  up,  and  cried  out  in  their  joyful  amazement,  for 
there,  lighted  by  two  lamps,  was  a  table,  well  spread  with 
all  their  scarcely-used  dishes,  on  which  was  a  repast  such 
as  they  had  not  tasted  for  months. 

"  Take  your  place,  mother  —  the  armed  -chair  for  you. 
Pour  out  the  coffee,  Eva,  while  I  roll  Ruthy  up  to  the 
table.  Want  help?  Well,  yes,  you  may  lend  a  hand 
this  once,  for  a  cracker  or  so,  soaked  in  bitterness,  don't 
make  giants  of  boys  all  at  once.  There,  Miss  Ruthy,  what 
do  you  think  of  that?" 

Miss  Ruthy,  the  moment  her  chair  was  drawn  close  to 
the  table.,  folded  her  hands  on  the  white  cloth,  and  bowed 
her  face  upon  it,  thanked  God  as  he  is  seldom  thanked  at 
any  meal.  Then  the  bowed  heads  were  lifted,  and  this  little 
household,  so  downcast  an  hour  before,  came  out  into  the 
sunshine  of  this  marvellous  plenty;  and  those  sad  faces 
grew  bright  with  smiles  of  thankfulness,  while  two 
faces  peeped  in  through  the  morning  glories  at  the  window, 
enjoying  it  all,  as  if  the  grocer's  wife  and  her  Bervant  had 
been  good  fairies. 


IN     THE     MORNING.  4i 

CHAPTER  VI. 

IN     THE     MORNING. 

■  A  sudden  burst  of  sunshine  had  come  in  on  the  Lau- 
rence family,  brightening  the  darkness  around  them.  It 
glinted  through  the  white  curtains,  where  they  floated  over 
the  window,  as  the  morning  dawned  upon  them.  At  day- 
light every  one  was  astir  and  full  of  cheerful  activity;  the 
cloud,  which  had  so  long  hung  blackly  over  that  family,  had 
turned  its  silver  lining,  and  the  very  edge  seemed  radiant. 

The  boy  was  up  earliest  of  all,  building  a  fire  in  the 
stove,  and  making  ready  for  his  mother  to  come  down. 
He  was  singing  to  himself  all  the  time,  while  a  bright  tin 
tea-kettle  kept  up  a  murmuring  accompaniment,  and  soft- 
ened the  air  with  its  vapory  steam. 

Then  the  good  housewife  came  down,  pale,  gaunt,  but 
unconsciously  almost  smiling,  and  Eva  followed,  supporting 
Ruth  with  both  arms,  until  the  invalid  dropped  into  a  chair, 
and  drew  a  breath  of  exquisite  satisfaction,  as  she  looked 
over  the  little  table  her  mother's  deft  hands  had  spread. 

There  was  no  prodigal  display  at  this  cheerful  meal ;  but 
to  sit  once  more  at  a  table,  even  sparsely  spread,  was  a 
delight  to  the  whole  family.  So  thankful  smiles  dawned 
softly  on  those  wan  faces,  and  pleasant  looks  were  cast 
through  the  window,  when  Mrs.  Smith  parted  the  purple 
morning-glories  with  her  two  hands,  and  called  out  in  a 
kind,  cheery  voice, 

"Well,  good  folks,  how  do  you  find  yourselves  this 
morning  ?  " 

Little  Jim  gave  a  leap  from  his  seat,  opened  the  door, 
and  let  in  Mrs.  Smith,  with  a  gush  of  fresh  air,  that  seemed 
to  set  all  the  morning-glory  bells  to  trembling  with  delight 
as  they  peeped  into  the  room  and  tossed  drops  of  dew  over 
the  window-sill. 


48  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"There,  now,  that's  something  like!"  said  the  dame, 
gloating  over  the  scene  as  if  every  living  soul  at  the  table 
were  her  own  especial  property.  "Mercy  on  us!  how  we 
have  all  chirked  up  since  last  night.  Well,  Jimmy,  what 
about  the  coal  ?  " 

"Oh!  I'm  <m  hand!''  answered  the  boy,  pushing  up  the 
sleeves  of  his  jacket.  "That  beef-steak  has  made  me  tough 
as  an  oak-knot  and  springy  as  a  steel-trap.  Just  show  me 
the  thing  that  is  to  be  done,  and  see  if  I  don't  do  it." 

The  good  dame  regarded  the  delicate  child  with  infinite 
compassion,  as  he  made  his  little  boast. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  said,  "you  shall  do  anything  you  want 
to  by-aud-by,  when  good  living  has  toughened  you  up. 
But  just  now  we  must  give  you  light  jobs,  such  as  carrying 
home  single  parcels,  and  helping  a  little  at  the  counter,  may- 
be now  and  then — but  you  mightn't  like  that?" 

"Like  what?     Why,  Mrs.  Smith,  I'm  just  in  for  liking 
anything !  " 
"But  then  you  are  so  manly,  and  this  is  girls'  work." 

A  flush  of  scarlet  came  over  that  bright  face,  but  it  passed 
away  in  an  instant;  and  holding  up  his  arms,  James  asked 
the  good  woman  if  those  hands  aud  wrists  were  not  slender 
and  white  as  any  girl's. 

At  this  Mrs.  Smith  laughed  till  her  Bides  Bhook,  and 
declared  that,  boy  or  girl,  he  was  a  splendid  little  fellow  as 
the  sun  ever  shone  on  ;  and  if  Mrs.  Laurence  felt  as  if  she 
could  spare  him  he  might  come  up  to  the  grocery,  and  when 
there  was  no  light  jobs  for  him  to  do,  ihere  was  the  cradle  to 
rock,  ami  the  baby  to  tend  up  stairs. 

n  the  hot  scarlet  swept  its  way  to  the  lad's  face,  and 
a  choking  sense  of  shame  rose  to  his  throat;  but  he  con- 
quered  the  rebellions  feelings  like  a  hero,  and  protested, 
half  crying,  when  he  meant  to  laugh,  that  tending  a  baby 
must  he  prime  fun,  and  rocking  a  cradle  like  rowing  a  boat. 
.'     I  whal  be  had  wanted  to  do  all  his  life.     I  Mrs. 


IN      THE      MORNING.  49 

Smith's  baby  was  such  a  first-class  young  one  he  wondered 
that  any  girl  could  be  strong  enough  to  hold  her. 

"Then  it  is  all  settled,  Jimmy,  dear!"  exclaimed  the 
good  wife.  "Smith  couldn't  make  much  of  an  opening  for 
a  little  chap  as  had  got  to  learn  the  business  before  he 
could  be  of  any  use;  so  Kate  Gorman  and  I  thought  how 
handy  it  would  be  to  have  some  one  about  the  baby  now 
and  then,  just  for  that,  and  running  the  fancy  errands,  as  I 
call  them, — John  Smith  don't  like  lazy  people  about  him, 
and  we  musn't  eat  the  bread  of  idleness,  you  know,  James." 

"I  want  to  earn  every  mouthful  of  bread  I  eat,"  said  the 
boy,  bravely,  "and  enough  for  others,  too.  If  you'll  set  me 
to  washing  dishes  and  peeling  potatoes,  I'll  try  and  do  it 
well.     See  if  1  don't."  ' 

"Come  along,  then,"  cried  the  woman,  taking  his  hand 
with  a  firm  clasp.      "You're  willing,  Mrs.  Laurence?" 

The  poor,  pale  mother  turned  wistfully  to  her  boy,  who 
looked  her  firmly  in  the  eyes,  and  smiled  as  if  rocking 
cradles  and  tending  babies  were  the  great  aim  and  glory  of 
his  young  life. 

"  It  will  be  in  the  house,  and — and  you'll  be  a  mother  to 
him,  Mrs.  Smith?" 

"  Won't  I  ?  "  answered  the  dame. 

"And  you  will  let  him  come  home  sometimes?" 

"Every  night  of  his  life,  and  three  times  a  day,  if  you 
want  him.  Goodness  gracious!  you  don't  expect  that  we 
intend  to  work  a  little  fellow  like  that  every  hour  in  the 
twenty-four.  I  didn't  come  here  like  a  highway  robber  to 
run  off  with  your  son,  and  make  a  white  slave  of  him  ;  but 
just  to  give  him  what  he  seems  to  want,  something  to  do, 
and  something  to  eat." 

"And  I'm  in  a  hurry  to  begin,"  said  James,  piling  up  his 
school-books  on  a  set  of  hanging-shelves  over  the  fire-place, 
and  resolutely  suppressing  a  big  sigh  that  rose  to  his  lips. 
'6 


-50  THE     REIGNING      R  E  I.  L  E. 

"  Perhaps  the  coal  would  have  been  too  much  for  me.     At 
any  rate,  I  can  do  the  other.      But  I  say,  Mrs.  Smith  ?" 

••  Well,  Jimmy.     Just  thought  of  something,  I  see." 

'•Can  T  sleep  at  home?     Ruth  there  is  awful  timid,  and 
ae  to  lie  awake  without  a  man  in  the  houa         Bes 
her,  who  has  always  been  used  to  it,  and  Eva,  who  likes 
to  have  me  about."' 

'•Indeed,  I  do,  darling!"  cried  Eva.  kissing  the  bright, 
young  face;  and  turning  to  Mrs.  Smith,  she  said,  tenderly, 
"He  does  seem  to  be  a  protection,  and  we  all  love  him  so." 

"  Of  course,  you  do  !  He's  just  the  lovingest  little  shaver 
in  the  world!  I  onty  hope  that  John  Smith,  junior,  will  be 
up  to  his  mark,  which  I  think  he  will,  being  bright  as  a 
new  dollar,  if  sich  things  are  in  these  greenbacky  days. 
As  for  sleeping  at  home,  I  never  had  any  other  idea.  H  w, 
come  away,  Jimmy,  or  something  else  will  turn  op  ;  and  my 
time  is  short,  having  left  Kate  Gorman  tending  Jerusha 
Maria,  and  breakfast  on  the  table,  which  Smith  won't  touch 
a  mouthful  of  till  I  am  there  to  cut  up  and  pour  out,  being 
of  that  loving  nature — though  he  does,  sometimes,  cut  up  a 
little  rusty  with  customers.     Come,  Jimmy.'' 

James  pulled  down  his  sleeves,  and  put  on  his  cap.  after 
which  he  kissed  his  mother  and  sisters  with  clinging  affec- 
tion, as  if  he  were  starting  on  a  whaling  voyage,  and 
marched  off  to  the  grocery,  side  by  side  with  Mr-.  Smith, 
who  Btopped  in  the  store  long  enough  to  (ill  his  pockets  with 
nuts  and  raisins.  Then  she  took  him  up  stairs,  and  laid  the 
baby  she  called  Jerusha  Maria  into  his  arms,  and  taught 
him.  with  brief  scolding,  how  to  arrange  his  knees,  so  that 
the  little  curly  head  and  the  feet,  in  their  tiny  worsted 
socks,  should  not  come  too  closely  together,  while  the  rest 
of  that  plump  body  dropped  through,  and  was  ignominiously 
doubled  up,  which  happened,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  more 
than  was  proper  during  the  first  half-huur  of  the  lad's  pro- 
motion. 


SUNSHINE.  51 

At  these  times  Mrs.  Smith  would  turn  very  red,  and 
wonder  if  she  had  done  quite  wisely  in  the  first  outburst  of 
her  warm-hearted  charity.  While  Kate  Gorman  paused  in 
her  work  now  and  then  to  shake  out  the  child's  long  skirts 
and  settle  her  comfortable,  where  she  could  bury  her  chubby 
hands  in  the  boy's  hair,  and  refresh  herself  with  a  vigorous 
pull  now  and  then,  all  of  which  James  Laurence  endured 
with  the  smiling  stoicism  of  a  young  Indian. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SUNSHINE. 


Eva  Laurence  was  radiant  that  day  as  she  walked  down 
to  the  wareroom,  which  scarcely  seemed  to  her  like  a  place 
of  toil.  Eor  the  first  time  in  weeks  she  had  left  a  really 
cheerful  home.  The  few  days  which  intervened  between 
her  and  the  time  her  first  wages  would  be  paid  were  bridged 
over,  and  she  no  longer  trembled  with  a  wild  fear  of  starva- 
tion for  those  she  loved.  Trouble  might  come,  but  nothing 
quite  so  dreadful  as  that.  The  heroism  of  her  little  brother 
had  worked  marvels,  for  which  her  heart  swelled  with  tender 
gratitude. 

The  young  man,  who  wore  that  soft,  amber  beard,  was 
struck  by  her  brilliant  color,  and  deigned,  in  a  careless  way, 
to  compliment  her  upon  it  as  she  passed  him.  This  she 
scarcely  noticed,  being  so  occupied  with  pleasant  thoughts, 
that  his  condescension  passed  unheeded;  but  when  Harold 
came  up,  she  reached  forth  both  hands,  and,  looking  in  his 
earnest  face,  said, 

"  Good  morning  !     What  a  lovely  day  it  is  !  " 

"Yes,  very  lovely — a  great  change,"  he  murmured,  press- 


52  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

ing  her  hands  one  instant;  then  dropping  them  with  a  gen- 
tle sigh. 

" Yesterday  was  so  gloomy,"  she  said;  "but  this " 

She  broke  oft0  with  a  faint  laugh,  for  the  sky  was,  in  fact, 
clouded;  and  she  remembered  the  floods  of  silvery  light 
that  had  come  through  the  windows  the  day  before,  mock- 
ing her  anxiety,  and  turning  her  heart  sick  with  a  thought 
of  the  dear  ones  at  home. 

Harold  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  a  grave,  questioning 
way.  He  had  seen  the  young  clerk  address  her,  and  gave 
the  smile  on  her  lip,  and  the  glow  in  her  cheek,  an  inter- 
pretation that  made  his  own  greeting  constrained  and  for- 
mal. Eva  did  not  heed  this  either,  the  warmth  at  her  heart 
was  not  to  be  chilled  by  a  cold  glance  just  then,  even  from 
the  man  who  had  been  kindest  to  her.  She  went  to  a  mir- 
ror, in  which  customers  were  expected  to  admire  themselves, 
and  stood  before  it  smoothing  her  hair,  graceful  as  a  bird, 
and  quite  as  unconscious  of  her  own  beauty. 

Just  then  a  party  came  into  the  show-room,  and  Harold 
turned  his  attention  on  them,  while  Eva  stole  away  from 
the  mirror,  and  stood  ready  to  be  called,  without  one  trace 
of  the  shrinking  pride  which  had  made  her  so  sensitive  the 
day  before. 

The  lady,  who  soon  required  her  attention,  was  a  stout, 
full-featured  dame,  arrayed  in  costly  silk,  flounced,  looped, 
and  puffed,  until  the  rich  material  was  lost  in  a  confusion 
of  trimmings,  which  fluttered,  like  the  plumage  of  an  angry 
bird,  as  she  walked. 

Up  and  down  the  vast  show-room  this  person  wandered, 
touching  first  one  article,  then  another,  with  a  heavy  hand, 
so  tightly  incased  in  canary  kid  gloves,  that  the  delicate 
fabric  seemed  ready  to  burst  at  each  incautious  movement 
of  the  imprisoned  fingers.  !N"ow  and  then  she  would  toss 
the  fabric  aside  with  a  scornful  little  sniff,  and  ask  the  ob- 
sequious clerk  if  he  had  nothing  hotter  than  that  to  show  a 


SUNSHINE.  53 

lady  who  did  not  stand  on  prices,  but  must  have  the  best 
of  everything  when  she  went  a  shopping.  What  would  she 
please  to  look  at,  indeed  ?  Why  just  what  happened  to 
take  her  fancy;  as  for  wanting  anything  particular,  she  was 
a  long  way  beyond  that.  If  the  young  man  had  anything 
very  recherche)',  and  out  of  the  common,  she  didn't  mind 
looking  at  it;  but,  goodness  gracious!  Who  was  that  young 
woman  ?  " 

Here  the  new  customer  lifted  both  hands,  and  parted  her 
lips  with  an  expression  of  growing  amazement,  while  her 
eyes,  deepening  from  blue  to  pale  gray,  were  fastened  on 
Eva  Laurence. 

"That  young  lady,"  answered  the  clerk,  "is  Miss  Lau- 
rence, just  engaged.  You  are  not  the  first  person  who  has 
been  struck  with  her  good  looks.  Haven't  a  more  genteel 
girl  in  the  establishment." 

The  customer  dropped  her  hands,  and  turning  abruptly 
from  the  clerk,  walked  to  the  stair-case,  where  an  elderly 
man  stood  waiting  for  her  with  the  patient  indifference  of 
a  person  impressed  into  service  he  did  not  like. 

"Herman!  Herman  Ross!"  she  exclaimed,  in  an  eager 
voice,  "come  here  this  minute  and  see  for  yourself.  Did 
you  ever  in  your  born  days !  Look  there  !  Is  n't  that  the 
loveliest  creature  you  ever  set  eyes  on  ?  " 

Eva  was  standing  at  a  far-off  counter,  looking  thought- 
fully into  the  distance,  with  that  soft,  happy  smile  bright- 
ening her  whole  face,  as  the  full  light  from  a  neighboring 
window  fell  upon  it. 

The  man  paused  as  he  saw  the  face,  and  drew  back  with 
a  sudden  recoil  from  the  eager  hand  still  pressing  his  arm. 

'•What  is  this?  What  does  it  mean?"  he  demanded, 
turning  white,  and  looking  forward  with  a  wild  stare.  It  is 
twenty  years.  I  cannot  go  back  to  that,  but  —  but  —  bo 
quiet !     Leave  me  alone!  " 

The   man   walked  forward  unsteadily,  and,  like  one  im- 


54 


THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 


pelled  to  an  action  against  his  own  consciousness,  until  he 
came  close  to  Eva,  but  with  such  noiseless  action  that  she 
did  not  heed  him. 

'•  Will  you  tell  me  your  name  ?  " 

Eva  started.  The  voice  that  addressed  her  was  so  low 
and  hoarse  that  surprise  became  almost  terror  in  her. 

"  My  name  ?     My — my  name  ?  Did  you  ask  that  ?  " 

"  Yes — yes  !  " 

Eva  turned  her  eyes  on  the  white  face  which  was  reading 
hers  with  such  pathetic  earnestness,  and  all  the  angry  sur- 
prise his  abrupt  address  had  kindled,  died  out  under  the 
sad  penetration  of  his  glance. 

"  My  name  is  Laurence — Eva  Laurence,"  she  answered, 
with  gentle  courtesy.     ''Pray,  why  do  you  care  to  know  ?  " 

"  I  can  scarcely  tell  you,  young  lady.  Excuse  me,  there 
must  be  some  mistake.     Laurence — did  you  say  Laurence?" 

"That  is  my  name." 

"And  your  father?" 

"My  father  is  dead,"  answered  the  girl,  with  a  flush  about 
her  drooping  eyelids,  under  which  quick  tears  were  spring- 
ing. 

"  Dead  ?     But  your  mother  ?  " 

u  She  is  living." 

"Ah!  But  you  have  other  relatives  —  brothers,  sisters, 
perhaps  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  brother  and  one  sister." 

"  Like  you  ?     Is  she  beautiful  like  you  ?  " 

"  1  do  not  suppose  any  one  could  think  of  me,  looking  at 
her,"  answered  Eva,  speaking  her  honest  conviction. 

"  I  .-hould  like  to  see  your  sister  and  your  mother,"  said 
the  man,  "  Might  I  ?  Would  it  be  unpardonable  if  1  called 
on  them  ?" 

''  I  do  not  know,  we  have  seen  few  people  since  inv  father 
tree  killed." 

"  Killed,  did  you  say  ?     Killed  ?  " 


TRYING      THINGS      ON.  55 

"Yes,"'  answered  Eva,  almost  in  a  whisper;  '-'my  father 
was  shot  down  in  the  street  by  a  man  he  was  arresting." 

"  Shot  down  !  That  was  terrible  !  Forgive  me,  young 
lady,  if  I  have  made  you  cry.  Nothing  was  further  from 
my  thoughts." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

TRYING   THINGS    ON. 

The  stout  woman  who  had  brought  on  this  conversation 
came  up  now,  her  face  beaming  with  curiosity  and  her  dress 
fluttering  ludicrously. 

"  Well  Herman,  don't  you  think  I  have  been  kept  wait- 
ing about  long  enough  ?  One  gets  out  of  patience,  Miss, 
especially  when  one  is  used  to  being  studied  and  waited 
on  by  no  end  of  servants,  and  such  like.  Xow,  if  you'll 
just  look  out  of  the  window,  you'll  find  my  footman 
watching  the  front  entrance  like  a  cat,  with  one  hand  on  the 
carriage-door  ;  for  he  knows  well  enough  there'd  be  a  high 
breeze  if  I  was  kept  waiting  a  single  minute ;  so  you  mustn't 
wonder  if  I  am  just  a  trifle  hard  on  shop  girls — I  always 
keep  them  on  the  jump." 

"  Oh,  I  am  quite  ready  to  wait  on  you,"  said  Eva  smil- 
ing. 

Mrs.  Carter  smiled  also,  for  her  genial  nature  was  always 
ready  to  meet  cordiality  half  way,  and  she  said  blandly, 

'•Would  you  mind  just  stepping  over  among  the  lace 
shawls,  they  tell  me  you're  hired  to  show  such  things  off, 
and  I  might  take  one,  if  they've  got  something  a  little 
superber  than  the  shawl  Mrs.  Lambert  just  brought  home 
from  Europe.  She  sits  right  before  me  in  church,  you 
know,  and  wears  it  in  the  most  aggravating  way.     Every 


56 


T  H  E      Ii  E  I  G  N  I  N  G      B  E  I.  I.  E. 


time  I  kneel  clown,  that  eternal  pattern  of  morning-glory 
vines,  creeping  over  her  shoulder,  is  before  my  eyes,  daring 
me  to  get  anything  like  it,  if  I  can,  for  love  or  money.  I'm 
expected  to  feel  meek  and  humble  all  the  same.  It  isn't  in 
human  nature.  That  woman  and  I  can't  be  members  of  the 
same  church  if  she  keeps  this  thing  up.  One's  moral  char- 
acter won't  stand  such  strains  ;  kneeling  at  the  same  altar 
with  a  woman  who  wears  a  fifteen-hundred  dollar  lace  shawl, 
and  mine  only  a  thousand,  and  Carter  fairly  wallowing  in 
greenbacks,  is  more  than  I  can  stand." 

Eva  listened  till  her  amused  smile  deepened  into  a  laugh, 
which  the  man  heard  with  a  thrill  of  pain  that  ran  through 
him  like  an  arrow.  Filled  with  recollections  that  made  his 
blood  stir  like  old  wine  in  his  heart,  he  drew  back  and 
watched  the  girl  narrowly,  as  she  conversed  with  his  sister. 

"  Oh  !  if  you  want  a  fifteen  hundred  dollar  shawl,  it  is  an 
easy  thing  to  get.  Shall  I  go  with  you  to  the  lace  coun- 
ter ?  "  said  Eva,  quite  unconscious  of  the  stranger's  regard. 

"But  it  must  have  a  morning-glory  vine  running  through 
it,  leaves  and  bells  like  hers,  only  more  of  'em.  I'm  re- 
solved that  our  church  shall  see  no  costlier  shawl  than 
Richard  Carter's  lady  wears,  while  it  sends  up  a  steeple. 
Now  just  tell  that  young  man  to  show  us  the  very  best  he's 
got.     Nothing  less  than  fifteen  hundred,  understand." 

The  light-haired  clerk  heard  all  this  conversation,  and 
followed  the  party  up  to  the  lace-counter,  where  he  became 
very  officious  in  exhibiting  shawls,  to  which  he  affixed  enor- 
mous  prices  with  a  solemn  gravity  of  countenance  that  im- 
pressed Mrs.  Richard  Carter  greatly.  This  helped  her  to  fix 
upon  a  beautiful  fabric,  certainly,  but  one  she  would  not 
have  deigned  to  purchase  at  its  real  value,  which  was  just 
five  hundred  dollars  less  than  the  depict  inn  of  that  huge 
roll  of  greenbacks  with  which  the  good  lady  wont  armed  on 
her  shopping  excursions. 

'•There/'  she  said,  crushing  the  money  she  had  left  into 


TRYING     THINGS     ON.  57 

her  reticule-purse,  and  winding  the  chain  about  her  wrist 
and  little  finger,  on  which  she  wore  a  great  diamond  ring 
outside  the  glove,  "  I  begin  to  feel  like  myself  again.  You 
are  sure  that  a  higher-priced  shawl  than  that  isn't  to  be 
found  in  New  York,  young  man  ?" 

"Positive  of  it,  madam  :  for  I  don't  believe  there  is  ano- 
ther salesman  in  New  York  that  would  have  the  courage  to 
set  that  figure,"  he  muttered,  after  the  first  brief  reply. 
" Not  another  imported.  Rest  content  that  you  have  the 
shawl  of  the  season,  madam.  Shall  I  send  it  to  your  car- 
riage ?  " 

"Yes,  give  it  to  my  footman,  a  tall  fellow  in  maroon  liv- 
ery, with  a  gold  band.  You'll  see  Carter's  and  my  mono- 
gram on  the  carriage  door." 

The  clerk  went  away  with  a  droll  look  in  his  eyes,  and  a 
smile  struggling  on  his  lip;  for  he  was  well  acquainted  with 
the  class  of  persons  to  which  his  customer  belonged — a  class 
that,  like  many  other  strange  things  in  social  life,  is  an  off- 
shoot of  a  civil  war,  which  has  served  to  vulgarize  wealth 
attained  by  accident  or  fraud,  until  refined  people  shrink 
from  competition  with  it  in  sensitive  shame. 

"  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you  for  showing  off  the 
patterns  for  me,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  turning  toward  Eva 
with  cordial  warmth.  "  The  people  always  are  obliging  in 
this  establishment ;  know  in  an  instant  when  a  lady  carries 
the  look  of  money  in  her  face  ;  but  I  must  say,  that  you  are 
the  most  stylish  girl  that  I've  seen  here  yet;  was  struck 
with  you  the  first  time,  wasn't  I,  Herman?" 

Here  Mrs.  Carter  turned  in  search  of  her  brother,  who 
had  retreated  out  of  hearing. 

"Oh!  there  he  is,  mousing  off  by  himself;  but  he  don't 
take  his  eyes  from  your  face.  No  wonder,  there  is  enough 
in  it  to  strike  anyone  all  in  a  heap.  He  don't  seem  to  get 
over  it,  though.  Awful  sensitive !  But  we  all  are  that. 
Exquisite  feelings,  born    with    us.     He's  my  brother,  you 


58  T  n  E      REIGNING      BELL  E. 

know — my  only  brother.  La- ft  New  York  when  he  was  a 
young  man,  and  just  come  back  again.  I  shouldn't  have 
known  him,  he's  so  altered.  Do  you  think  we  look  alike? 
He  used  to  be  very  haudsome,  and  people  took  us  for  twins.' 

A  smile  quivered  across  Eva's  lip,  and  the  lids  drooped 
over  her  laughing  e}*es  ;  but  both  died  out  suddenly  as  her 
glance  fell  on  the  strange  man,  who  seemed  to  shrink  away 
from  her  mirth  as  if  it  wounded  him. 

"I  must  not  laugh,"  said  Eva,  in  her  thoughts.  "Per- 
haps he  feels  how  ridiculous  his  relative  makes  herself,  and 
is  annoyed  by  it.  But  why  does  he  look  at  me  with  such 
sorrowful  eyes.  Yes,  he  is  a  handsome  man,  and  seems  to 
be  both  sensible  and  sensitive ;  but  her  brother — I  don't 
believe  it." 

The  man  came  forward  as  these  thoughts  disturbed  the 
girl,  asked  Mrs.  Carter  if  she  was  readjT  to  return  home, 
and,  lifting  his  hat  with  grave  politeness,  led  the  way  down 
stairs. 

The  tall  footman  was  at  his  post,  shut  the  carriage-door 
with  a  lordly  bang,  and  climbed  up  to  his  place  by  the 
coachman,  leaving  the  two  persons  inside  to  themselves. 

"  Well,  now,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  eagerly,  "  did  you  ever 
see  anything  so  handsome?  She  quite  took  my  breath 
away  at  first.  As  for  you,  Eoss,  well  the  color  hasn't  come 
back  to  your  face  yet.     What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  saw,"  answered  the  man,  dreamily,  "  I  saw  that 
she  was  beautiful." 


THE     LAMBERT     MANSION.  59 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   LAMBERT   MANSION. 

The  Lamberts  were  a  proud  family,  aristocratic  in  birth 
intellect  and  breeding.  This  branch  with  which  our  story- 
deals,  had  added  great  wealth  to  its  other  possessions  by 
marriage  with  a  rich  man's  only  daughter. 

Mrs.  Lambert  was  not  content  with  a  home  in  the  Fifth 
Avenue,  which  many  a  small  monarch  might  have  coveted 
for  a  regal  palace,  but  she  must  have  it  altogether  different, 
more  superb  than  her  neighbors,  unique  as  well  as  magnifi- 
cent. Mrs.  Lambert  had  led  society  so  long,  and  travelled 
so  much,  that  commonplace  things,  bought  by  the  yard, 
and  arranged  exactly  like  every  other  house  of  the  class, 
were  far  beneath  her  aspirations.  Her  stately  mansion 
abounded  in  beautiful  objects,  rare  and  costly,  which  she 
had  been  years  in  collecting  at  every  curiosity-shop  and 
brie-a-brae  sale  in  Europe. 

The  ground  on  which  the  Lambert  mansion  was  built 
had  been  a  farm,  or  rather  homestead,  when  its  present  mis- 
tress was  born.  As  the  city  throve  and  grew  around  it, 
that  which  had  been  a  modest  competency  became  enormous 
wealth,  in  the  heart  of  which  she  replaced  the  old  home- 
stead with  a  palace,  aud  turned  the  old  garden  and  goodly 
home  lot  into  a  wilderness  of  flowers.  These  grew  and 
bloomed  beautifully,  in  spite  of  three  or  four  grand  old 
forest  trees  which  still  kept  a  firm  root-hold  in  the  soil. 
Standing  in  front,  with  those  broad  steps  winding  up  to  the 
entrance  through  their  heav}'  stone  balustrades,  you  saw 
nothing  of  the  lovely  green  paradise  that  bloomed  on  the 
other  side  of  that  costly  building.  The  plate  glass  windows 
were  so  brilliant,  the  stone  work  so  elaborate,  that  an  idea 
of  nature  took  you  by  surprise. 


60  THE      REIGNING      I1ELLE. 

Leave  the  avenue  outy  for  a  minute,  turn  down  the  first 
cross  street,  and  the  bloom,  the  rich  greenness,  and  rustle 
of  leaves,  come  upon  you  like  enchantment.  Through  them 
all,  you  saw  sheets  of  curved  glass  rolling  downward  like 
sunlit  waves  of  the  ocean;  and  through  them  come  the 
splendid  glow  of  blossoming  flowers,  among  which  you  could 
see  birds  fluttering,  and  a  fountain  shooting  up  diamonds. 

This  bit  of  paradise  had  formerly  been  old  Mr.  Lambert's 
kitchen-garden,  planted  around  the  edge  with  currant- 
bushes,  and  with  a  thicket  of  feathery  fennel  rising  like  a 
green  fountain  in  the  center.  Where  the  thicket  of  tea- 
roses  blossomed  most  richly,  he  had  planted  an  asparagus 
bed  and  sold  the  product  to  market  women  at  the  highest 
price  he  could  get.  That  great  plot  of  heliotrope  and  scar- 
let geraniums,  gave  him  a  rich  harvest  of  beets  and  carrots, 
in  the  good  old  days.  But  of  all  the  old,  thrifty  life,  there 
was  nothing  left  save  one  great  white  rose-tree,  that  still 
clambered  up  a  green  post,  and  half-buried  a  pretty  wren- 
house  in  its  sturdy  foliage. 

This  wren-house  the  old  man  had  devised  when  he 
planted  the  rose  on  his  daughter's  birth-day,  a  bit  of  at!  - 
tionate  sentiment,  she  could  never  force  herself  to  root  from 
the  gorgeous  splendor  of  her  after  life.  So  there  the  rose- 
tree  bloomed,  and  the  wren-house  gave  forth  yearly  broods 
of  young  birds,  that  in  their  turn  built  nests,  and  filled  the 
little  spot  with  songsters  bright  and  beautiful  as  the  flowers. 

Mrs.  Lambert  was  a  middle-aged  lady  now,  and  the 
white  rose  had  died  more  than  once  in  its  main  stock  since 
she  was  born.  Still  shoots  sprang  up  from  the  roots  again, 
and  the  bush  remained  itself;  while  an  old,  old  man.  who 
had  worked  on  the  original  homestead,  and  now  lived 
our  of  the  stables,  kept  the  wren-house  thatched,  and  the 
ground  rich  around  the  old  memorial  hush,  sometimes  cry- 
ing a  little  as  he  dug  up  the  earth,  and  counted  the  years 
ainco  the  iirst  slender  twig  was  planted  by  the  hand  BO  long 


THE      LAMBERT     MANSION.  61 

cold,  while  he  stood  and  looked  on,  wondering  if  tne  sprout 
would  take  root. 

This  old  man,  with  hair  as  white  as  snow,  was  in  the 
garden  a  few  days  after  the  opening  of  this  story,  looking 
weird  and  strange  in  all  that  bloom  as  the  old  white  rose 
itself;  this,  being  out  of  flower,  was  gnarled  and  rough, 
having  nothing  but  green  leaves  to  shelter  the  wren-house 
with.  Some  of  its  branches  had  died  with  age,  and  with 
his  withered  and  trembling  hands  the  old  gardener  was 
attempting  to  cut  the  lifeless  wood  away,  a  task  that  went 
to  his  heart,  for  it  seemed  like  digging  his  own  grave. 

As  the  old  gardener  hacked  at  the  rough  wood,  a  man, 
who  had  been  loitering  along  the  sidewalk,  stopped,  as 
man}7  a  curious  person  had  done  before,  and  looked  in  upon 
the  pleasant  spot,  while  his  hand  held  lightly  by  one  of  the 
iron  rails.  It  was  a  white,  thin  hand,  but  not  of  that  deli- 
cate mould  which  entire  freedom  from  toil,  from  the  cradle 
up,  leaves  to  the  possessor.  Some  time  in  its  owner's  life 
that  hand  had  wrought  and  toiled,  though  the  palm  was 
soft  now  and  the  fingers  slender. 

Something  in  the  face,  which  looked  over  the  iron  railing, 
seemed  to  interest  the  old  man,  who  paused  with  his  knife 
half  through  the  wood  of  the  rose-bush,  and  shading  his 
eyes,  took  a  keen  survey  of  its  features. 

As  if  impelled  by  some  mysterious  attraction,  the  old 
gardener  left  his  knife  sticking  in  the  wood,  and  moved  with 
slow  difficulty  toward  the  iron  railing,  exactly  as  if  the  man 
had  summoned  him.  Indeed,  it  almost  seemed  as  if  he 
had  done  so,  for  the  moment  those  hobbling  steps  paused 
the  stranger  began  to  ask  questions,  which  the  old  man, 
usually  so  grim  and  crusty  with  persons  he  did  not  know, 
answered  with  prompt  respect. 

"  A  beautiful  garden  this,"  said  the  stranger,  gently, 
meeting  the  old  man's  gaze  with  a  look  that  had  something 
anxious  in  it. 


62  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

""Well,  yes,  I  should  think  so.  It  has  been  a  growing  a 
good  man}7  years,  and  from  the  first  was  rich.* 

"Are  3'ou  the  gardener?" 

'•What,  I?  Of  course.  What  else  should  1  be,  if  not 
the  madam's  gardener?  I,  who  helped  her  to  dig  up  her 
first  little  flower-bed  when  she  wasn't  more  than  so  high." 

Here  the  old  man  bent  down  a  little,  and  measured  off 
the  empty  space  about  to  the  level  of  his  rheumatic  knees. 

u  But  you  seem  a  very  old  man  to  work  at  all." 

"Do  I?  Well,  it  isn't  any  hard  work  I  do.  There  is  a 
boy  out  there  by  the  green-house  that  keeps  himself  busy 
obeying  my  orders,  and  he  gets  along  pretty  well  consider- 
ing." 

Here  the  old  man  pointed  to  a  tall,  stalwart  laborer,  some 
thirty-five  years  of  age,  who  really  did  the  work  of  the 
place,  and  whom  the  old  man  considered  as  a  boy. 

"I'm  not  so  old  as  to  want  help,  you  know,"  continued 
the  old  gardener;   "but  the  madam " 

"I  think  you  said  she  had  lived  here  from  a  child?" 

The  stranger's  voice  was  hoarse  and  constrained,  as  be 
interrupted  the  old  man  with  this  question. 

The  gardener  brushed  back  the  gray  hair  from  his  ears, 
as  if  something  in  the  voice  bewildered  him ;  then  he 
answered, 

'•Why,  everybody  here  knows  that.  The  big  wooden 
house  is  gone,  but  that  heap  of  stone  stands  over  the  old  cel- 
lar, and  she  lives  like  a  queen  where  her  father  died.  The 
great  difference  is,  she  picks  roses  where  he  sold  leets  and 
carrots;  and  them  green-houses  stand  just  where  his  pig- 
pens were.     Wonderful,  isn't  it?" 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  who  the  lady  is?" 

"Not  told  you?  Hal  ha!  As  if  everybody  didn't 
know  Mrs.  Lambert." 

"The  lady  is  married,  then  ?" 

These  words  fell  heavily,  like    drops  of  lead,  from    the 


THE      LAMBERT     MANSION.  63 

stranger's  white  lips,  and  his  hand,  which  clasped  the  rail- 
ing, tightened  spasmodically  around  the  iron. 

"  Married !     Why  that  was  years  and   years  ago.     She 
went    across  the  seas  to  some    foreign    countries  after  hpr 
father  died,  and  came  back  with  a  husband  and  a  sou. 
\     -'Her  son?" 

"Lord  a  mercy!  No!  Step-child— a  first  rate  shaver 
by  Mr.  Lambert's  first  wife;  but  she  don't  seem  to  know 
the  difference.  He'll  get  every  cent  she's  worth,  and  that's 
a  heap  of  money,  I  tell  you.  But  there  she  goes  down  the 
back  walk  toward  the  green-house,  you  can  see  her  white 
dress  through  the  bushes." 

The  stranger  grasped  the  iron  spikes  with  both  hands 
now,  and  the  face,  which  looked  over  them,  was  white  as 
death. 

"Let  me  in!  Let  me  pa"ss  through!"  he  exclaimed, 
looking  wildly  around  for  a  gate. 

"Well,  I  should  rather  think  not ;  no  trespassers  ever  get 
in  to  tread  down  the  madam's  flowers.  She  wouldn't  allow 
it.     Halloo!  what  are  you  about?" 

The  stranger  had  discovered  a  gate  upon  the  latch,  and 
opening  it,  much  to  the  old  man's  surprise,  passed  into  the 
garden. 

«'  Stop  there  !     Hold  on,  I  say  !  " 

The  stranger  did  not  even  hear  this  quivering  protest,  hut 
walked  swiftly  across  the  garden  and  entered  a  green-house, 
that  rose  in  its  midst  like  a  mammoth  bird-cage  of  rolling 
glass,  choked  up  with  leaves  and  blossoms.  Beneath  an 
acacia-tree,  covered  with  soft,  yellow  blossoms,  stood  a  lady, 
with  her  white  arm  uplifted,  gathering  a  spray  of  the  del  - 
cate  plant,  which  she  was  about  to  group  with  a  quantity  of 
moss-roses  and  heliotrope,  which  she  had  plucked  in  the  open 
air.  She  dropped  her  hand  in  amazement  as  a  strange  man 
entered  the  green-house,  and  the  branch  she  bad  half  broken 
rustled  slowly  back  to  its  place. 


G4  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

«  Elizabeth  ! " 

The  ladj  started.  A  cry  that  rose  to  her  lips  as  her 
name  was  uttered,  broke  into  something  like  a  sob,  and  she 
seemed  about  to  escape. 

"Elizabeth!" 

She  turned  now,  trembling,  white,  shrinking  with  dread, 
and  looked  into  the  man's  face. 

••  You — you " 

Her  blanched  lips  could  utter  no  more,  she  seized  the 
acacia  by  its  stem,  and  the  trembling  of  her  arm  shook 
down  the  blossoms  like  rain  upon  her  bowed  head. 


CHAPTER  X. 

DAWNING    PROSPERITY. 


Little  James  Laurence  worked  manfully  in  his  new 
vocation.  He  carried  home  packages  of  tea,  pounds  of 
sausages,  and  paper  bags  stuffed  with  crackers,  quicker 
than  any  boy  of  his  size  was  ever  known  to  do  before. 
He  ran  errands  up  and  down  stairs  for  Kate  Gorman,  and 
soon  learned  to  toss  "Jerusha  Maria''  in  the  air  with  an 
adroitness  that  threw  her  into  an  ecstasy  of  crowing,  and 
set  her  long  clothes  to  fluttering  through  and  through,  like 
the  plumage  of  a  bird.  He  learned  to  put  on  her  tiny  Bocka 
when  she  shook  them  from  her  plump,  little  feet;  and  never 
touched  the  top  of  her  head  without  trembling  for  the  deli- 
cate spot  there,  which  Mrs.  Smith  had  anxiously  warned 
him  of.  He  kept  the  child's  cradle  in  a  soft,  monotonous 
jog  while  she  slept,  without  complaint,  though  the  day  was 
ever  so  bright,  and  the  cheery  sound  of  boys  playing  mar- 
bles, on  the  side-walk,  tempted  him  sorely  at  times. 


DAWNING     PROSPERITY.  65 

For  all  this  James  got  his  board,  and  two  dollars  a  week, 
a  sum  that  brought  a  marvellous  quantity  of  groceries  every 
Saturday  night,  as  Mrs.  Smith  reckoned  up  accounts,  and 
sent  the  boy  home  rejoicing  to  spend  the  Sabbath  with  his 
family. 

Eva,  too,  had  received  her  last  instalment  of  wages,  and 
Mrs,  Laurence  grew  stronger  and  stronger  each  day,  as  that 
heavy  burden  of  anxiety  was  lifted  from  her  shoulders.  As 
for  Ruth,  who  lived  in  the  happiness  of  those  around  her, 
this  gleam  of  sunshine  revived  her  strength  and  beauty 
as  if  she  had  been  a  flower.  With  the  reaction  of  infinite 
relief,  she  began  to  wonder  if  there  was  anything  on  earth 
that  she  could  do  for  the  general  happiness. 

To  say  that  Mrs.  Smith  was  the  good  angel  of  this  little 
household,  would  be  to  cast  a  certain  degree  of  ridicule  on 
this  robust,  ruddy-faced,  and  genial-hearted  woman  :  for  she 
had  nothing  of  the  angel  about  her,  except  that  sweet  snow- 
plumed  spirit  of  mercy  that  brooded  in  her  warm  heart,  as 
doves  make  a  nest  of  soft  materials,  and  glorify  them  with 
the  cooing  music  of  perfect  love. 

No,  Mrs.  Smith  was  not  an  angel,  by  any  means.  She 
had  some  household  ways  that  angels  would  have  considered 
out  of  place,  not  to  mention  her  name,  which  was  the  reverse 
of  poetical  to  say  nothing  of  the  seraphic.  Sometimes  the 
good  woman  scolded  her  husband  roundly,  and  once  or  twice 
— I  tell  this  with  infinite  reluctance — she  had  been  known  to 
snatch  Jerusha  Maria  from  the  soft  depths  of  her  cradle, 
after  that  young  lady  had  cried  till  her  face  was  of  a  lovely 
purple,  and  shake  her  till  the  feathers  would  have  flown, 
had  her  mother  been  an  angel,  and  thus  endowed  her  with 
the  plumage  of  a  seraph. 

In  fact,  Mrs.  Smith  was  a  kind,  wholesome  specimen  of 
the  middle  class  American  house-wife,  and  a  good  friend  to 
the  Laurence  famil}r.  That  was  all.  She  had,  when  busi- 
ness grew  prosperous,  taken  a  lad  from  the  street,  rather 
4 


V,NG     \\  l  l  I  >'• 


„f  mercy.    But,  »'  ^      „  agalI18t  lb. 

£• -»i--':-* ;    ! 

miud,  and  Kate  fr0,,,u.,„lv  »><» 

«,  >ud.gu*<» JP         uiBt,  bo«  «**  ^;om.m,  haa  in 
^     t„„  nobl.  ,urtW  tha  abjaot  7",,    J  „nlj  a 

-^3»-=«- : 

ptoud,  mil'  .     „„1, 

Jamas  aaked  >""u>  io  tb,  daptha  ot  th.     I» 

a„gna«naaol  t.  ou  ,t  .„  ,h,  *«"> 

S?SS— -tal ,. *»•»* 

JKStisa^-— ' 

advances   www  ,,(,(,s, 

Bmitb  came  into  the  • 


DAWNING      PROSPERITY.  67 

had   brought  in  a  load  of  produce,   waited  at  the    counter 
with  a  whip  in  his  hand. 

"Thirty-seven  dollars,"  said  Smith,  opening  the  money 
drawer  and  counting  some  bank-notes  that  he  found  there. 
■■  No  need  of  waiting;  generally  enough  on  hand  for  small 
amounts  like  this.  Ha,  Boyce  !  who  has  been  paying  out 
money.  I'm  ten  dollars  short.  Run  up  and  ask  the  old 
woman  if  she's  taken  any.  If  she  has,  tell  her  to  shell  it, 
the  man  is  waiting  !  " 

Boyce  turned  slowly,  and  went  up  stairs.  He  paused 
once  or  twice  while  ascending,  and  bit  his  white  lips,  as  if 
doubtful  what  course  to  pursue.  Then  he  lifted  his  head 
with  a  dash,  ran  the  ringers  of  one  hand  through  his  fire-red 
hair,  and  flung  open  the  door  where  Mrs.  Smith  was  sitting 
with  "  Jerusha  Maria"  on  her  lap,  rubbing  her  gums  with 
the  handle  of  a  dessert-spoon,  in  the  desperate  hope  that  she 
was  aiding  a  refractory  tooth  to  cut. 

"Mrs.  Smith,  the  boss  wants  to  know  if  you've  took  any 
money  from  out  of  the  drawer.  He  wants  to  make  up  a 
bill." 

'•  What,  me !  Goodness  gracious !  What  do  I  want 
of  money,  with  Jerusha  Maria  crying  her  eyes  out,  and  I 
trying  my  best  to  set  her  teeth  of  an  edge.  Tell  Smith  not 
to  make  a  fool  of  himself,  but  search  his  own  pockets. 
Dear  me  !  will  that  man  never  have  no  consideration    " 

'•Then  you  haven't  got  the  money?"  said  Jared,  looking 
over  Mrs.  Smith's  head,  as  if  he  were  questioning  the  wall. 

"  Money  !  Not  a  cent !  Don't  bother  me  ! ''  cried  the 
dame  flinging  down  the  spoon,  and  searching  the  child's 
mouth  with  her  motherly  finger.  "  What  do  I  know  about 
the  store,  with  this  little  angel  screaming  like  mad  with  the 
ache  of  her  precious  gums!  There,  there!  mother  knows 
they  buse  her  darling!  Oh,  goodness!  Kate  Gorman, 
come  here.  I'm  sure  there's  one  coming  through  just  under 
my  finger  ;  look,  now." 


6S  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

Kate  set  down  a  saucer  she  was  wiping,  dried  her  hands 
haatil}-  on  the  dish-towel,  and  came  forward  beaming  with 
expectation. 

"Just  turn  her  purty  face  to  the  light,"  she  cried,  sink- 
ing on  her  two  knees  before  the  child,  and  peering  into  the 
mouth  in  which  sobs  and  screams  were  half  smothered. 
By  gorry !  and  so  it  is,  true  enough!  like  the  pint  of  a 
needle  agin  yer  finger.  There,  now,  the  swate  crathur  will 
have  some  peace  an'  quietness.  Boyce,  go  down  an'  tell  the 
master  that  it  has  come,  and  not  stand  gauking  there." 

Boj'ce,  who  had  been  in  no  haste  to  go  down,  closed  the 
door  softly,  and  stood  ruminating  on  the  outside.  Directly 
his  face  brightened  with  some  new-born  thought,  and  he 
entered  the  store  with  his  usual  manner. 

"  Mrs.  Smith  says  she  hasn't  took  a  cent  from  the  draw, 
boss." 

"Hasn't  taken  a  cent  from  the  drawer!"  exclaimed 
Smith,  excitedly.  "  Then  where  the  thunder  has  that  ten- 
dollar  bill  gone !  I  left  three  in  that  identical  drawer  not 
more  en  half  an  hour  ago,  and  now  only  two  is  left.  Who 
has  been  back  of  the  counter  since  I  went  out?" 

"Not  a  soul  but  me  and  Mrs.  Smith's  new  boy,  Jim." 

Smith's  countenance  fell.  He  went  to  the  drawer  again, 
drew  it  completely  out  from  under  the  counter,  turned  it 
bottom  up,  with  a  bang,  and  once  more  searched  every  frag- 
ment of  paper  with  care. 

Then  he  remembered  the  countryman,  who  was  waiting 
patiently,  and  assorting  out  some  small  bills,  paid  him  in 
moody  silence. 

Boyce  was  very  busy  all  this  time  re-arranging  boxes, 
and  dusting  the  counter  ;  but  his  furtive  eyes  now  anil  then 
turned  upon  Smith  with  the  look  of  a  hound  that  fears 
chastisement,  and  his  work  was  done  in  a  quick,  nervous 
fashion,  quite  unusual  to  him. 

M    iutime,  little  Jim  came  in  with  an  empty  basket  on 


GOSSIP      IN      THE      BASEMENT.  69 

his  arm,  bright  and  radiant  as  a  June  morning.  Smith 
lifted  his  eyes  from  the  desk  where  he  stood,  and  when  he 
saw  that  cheerful,  honest  face,  his  own  brightened.  He  had 
intended  to  question  the  boy,  but  thought  of  his  wife,  and 
had  not  the  heart  to  do  it. 

"  There  is  another  basket  to  be  taken  to  Mrs.  Lambert's 
cook,  who  comes  down  all  this  way  because  of  one  of  the 
footmen  being  the  cousin  of  my  poor  dead  mother;  so  look 
sharp  and  get  the  things  there  in  time,"  said  Boyce,  swing- 
ing a  basket  up  to  the  counter.  "  Tell  her  every  article  is 
choice,  as  choice  can  be,  such  as  we  don't  give  to  common 
customers,  by  no  manner  of  means.  There,  now,  heave 
awav ! " 


CHAPTER  XL 

GOSSIP    IN    THE    BASEMENT. 

James  received  the  basket,  and  carried  it  off  manfully,  but 
began  to  drag  in  his  walk,  and  set  the  heavy  load  down  for 
a  moment's  rest  after  he  had  carried  it  a  block  or  two,  for 
his  spirit  ran  far  beyond  his  strength,  poor  fellow  !  When 
he  entered  the  spacious  kitchen  in  Mrs.  Lambert's  dwelling, 
the  perspiration  was  standing  in  drops  on  his  forehead  and 
he  staggered  in  his  walk. 

Two  or  three  servants  were  in  the  kitchen,  gathered  in  a 
group  around  a  sallow  and  highly  dressed  young  lady,  whose 
French  cap  was  in  a  flutter  from  the  active  movement  of 
her  head,  and  whose  hands  were  now  and  then  taken  from 
the  pockets  in  her  apron  to  illustrate  what  she  was  saying 
with  peculiar  emphasis. 

So  occupied  and  interested  was  this  group  that  no  one  ob- 
served the  tired  boy,  who  stood  panting  over  the  basket  he 


70  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

had  placed  upon  the,  floor,  waiting  for  some  one  to  claim  its 
contents.  Even  the  cook,  whose  duty  it  was,  stood  hy  her 
table  with  the  rolling  -  pin  resting  motionless  on  a  half- 
formed  pie-crust,  her  hands  white  with  flour,  and  her  mouth 
open  with  eager  curiosity,  listening  to  the  female  in  that 
French  cap  so  intently  that  she  had  no  eyes  nor  ears  for 
anything  else. 

"  I  tell  you  the  man  was  a  total  stranger.  Old  Storms 
can't  remember  ever  seeing  him  before — and  he  remembers 
every  one  that  ever  came  here  since  the  deluge.  He  pro- 
tested against  the  man's  coming  into  the  garden,  and  held 
the  gate  to  with  all  his  might;  but  the  stranger  just  pushed 
him  aside,  and  tramping  across  the  garden,  made  straight 
for  the  conservatory  without  a  word,  as  if  eveything  be- 
longed to  him." 

u  Did  you  ever  see  such  impudence,"  said  a  jaunty  foot- 
man whose  eyes  were  bent  admiringly  on  the  speaker.  She 
nodded  an  assent,  and  proceeded  with  her  narrative." 

"Old  Storms  followed  after  just  as  fast  as  he  could  hobble. 
First  he  heard  a  little  scream,  then  a  dead  silence,  and 
through  the  glass  he  could  see  the  tall  acacia-tree  bending 
and  fluttering  as  if  a  storm  had  struck  it.  Then  came 
quick  words.  The  man  spoke  low  and  steadily,  but  madam's 
voice  rose  high  and  sharp  as  no  one  ever  heard  it  before  ; 
and  when  old  Storms  looked  in,  she  was  white  as  a  ghost, 
and  shaking  like  a  leaf.  She  saw  his  face  peeping  through 
the  door,  and  lifting  her  arms,  motioned  him  away,  while 
her  eyes  seemed  to  shine  right  through  him  like  burning 
stars." 

"  ]»ut  who  was  the  man  ?  Why  didn't  the  madam  order 
him  out?"  exclaimed  the  cook,  grasping  her  rolling-pin 
with  all  the  force  of  a  large,  heavy  hand.  "  I  only  wish  it 
had  a  been  me." 

"  But  it  was  madam  who  ordered  old  Storms  out ;  she 
that  stands  everything  from  him,  even    to  being  snubbed 


GOSSIP      IN      THE      BASEMENT.  71 

about  picking  her  own  flowers,"  answered  the  maid.  "I 
don't  understand  it.  She  must  have  known  the  man,  yet 
she  was  afraid  of  him,  she  was  white  as  a  sheet." 

"  And  quivering  all  over  like  a  jelly,"  broke  in  the  cook. 
"  Wasn't  that  what  you  said,  Ellen  ?  " 

"I  said  nothing  of  the  kind,  cook,"  answered  the  maid, 
with  infinite  disdain.  "No  one  was  talking  of  jellies,  that 
I  know  of,  so  please  to  keep  such  comparisons  for  the 
kitchen." 

The  cook  turned  her  hack  on  the  exasperated  maid,  and 
began  rolling  out  her  pie-crust  with  vigor,  muttering  to  her- 
self, 

"  Sich  airs  !  Just  as  if  wearing  a  high-flying  cap  made 
some  people  better  than  other  people." 

"But  you  didn't  tell,  Miss  Ellen,  what  came  of  it  all; 
which  of  the  madam's  people  was  it  who  showed  that 
strange  person  into  the  street?"  inquired  the  dashing 
footman,  who  had  listened  so  eagerly  to  Ellen's  story. 

"Which  of  'em?  Not  you,  Robert,  by  any  manner  of 
means.  The  truth  was,  old  Storms  kept  guard  over  the 
conservatory  a  full  half  hour.  Then  the  man  came  out, 
looking  stern  and  white,  as  if  he  had  been  committing 
murder.  He  passed  right  by  the  old  man  without  so  much 
as  looking  at  him,  and  tramped  off  through  the  garden-gate, 
wading  right  through  a  bed  of  heliotropes  in  full  blossom, 
and  coming  up  against  that  old  white  rose-bush,  with  the 
wren's-nest  over  it.  Then  he  stopped  as  if  some  one  had 
shot  him,  and  leaning  his  head  against  the  post,  shook  till 
the  leaves  trembled  and  the  branches  rustled." 

"Old  Storms  could  not  wait  to  see  anything  more,  for 
looking  through  the  glass,  he  saw  madam  lying  in  a  heap, 
with  her  head  against  the  marble  of  the  fountain,  not  a 
mite  of  color  in  her  face,  her  hands,  or  her  neck.  At  first 
he  thought  she  was  dead,  and  began  to  wring  his  old  hands 
over  her,  and  cry  out  so  loud  that  the  under-gardener  heard 


72  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

him.     Dropping    everything  he  ran  into    the    green-house 
and  lifted  her  up  while  old  Storms  came  in  after  me. 

"  Of  course,  I  went  out  with  a  flask  of  hartshorn  in  one 
hand,  and  aromatic  vinegar  in  the  other.  That  poor  old 
fellow  went  before,  with  great  round  tears  rolling  down 
his  cheek  ;  but  I  was  too  frightened  to  cry,  you  may  believe 
that.  Why  Mr.  Eobert  there  could  have  knocked  me  down 
with  a  feather." 

a  As  if  I  could  be  hired  to  do  anything  so  exceedingly 
unmanly,"  said  the  footman,  bowing  low,  with  one  hand  on 

his  heart,  "  the  bare  idea  is  wounding  to— to "     Yes, 

wounding,  Miss  Ellen." 

"But  I  didn't  mean  it  as  such.  The  feathery  idee  was  a 
comparison,  not  an  actuality,  Mr.  Robert.  Excuse  me,  I 
meant  no  harm  ;  there  isn't  a  girl  living  who  appreciates 
your  superfluous  qualities  better  than  I  do.  Pray  forgive 
me!" 

Eobert  allowed  himself  to  be  appeased,  and  took  Mi*3 
Ellen's  hand  affectionately  in  his,  while  he  besought  her  to 
go  on  with  her  touching  narrative. 

"There  isn't  much  more  to  tell,"  said  Ellen,  leaving  her 
hand  rather  longer  than  was  necessary  in  the  footman's 
clasp.  "  I  found  her  what  seemed  to  me  stone-dead,  her 
hands  cold  as  ice,  her  face  white  as  the  marble  over  which 
the  water  dripped,  her  hair  wet  with  the  spray  of  the  foun- 
tain.    Old  Storms  began  to  cry,  and  the  under-gardener — "' 

"Well,  Miss  Ellen,   what  of  him?"  demanded  the 
man,  tossing  the  clinging  hand  away  indignantly.     "What 
of  that  cretur  ?     Did  he  have  the  cheek  to  offer  to  help,  and 
lift  the  madam  up,  and,  perhaps,  touch  that  hand  in  doing 

of  it — that  hand  which  mine Speak,  Ellen,  what  did 

that  wretched  being  presume  to  do  ?  " 

'•  Why,  Eobert,  he  only  lifted  her  up  from  the  cold 
marble  of  the  floor,  and  laid  her  on  a  gardeu-s 

"  He    did  ?     That   is    enough.     I    understand    the   re,:. 


GOSSIP      IN      THE      BASEMENT.  73 

Perfidious  woman  !     You  helped  him  !     Your  hands  met — 
your  eyes- 


"  No,  Robert,  no !  I  hardly  looked  at  him.  But  what 
could  we  do  ?  Old  Storms  hasn't  the  strength  of  a  baby, 
and  I  was  so  frightened  !  " 

"  But  you  talked  with  him  ?  " 

"Only  to  get  all  the  particulars  which  the  crabbed  old 
man  wouldn't  talk  about.  In  fact,  he  tried  to  make  me 
believe  that  nothing  out  of  the  common  had  happened; 
that  no  strange  man  had  been  there ;  and  he  was  awful 
huffy  with  the  under-gardener  for  coming  in  after  me.  In 
fact,  if  I  had  depended  on  old  Storms,  not  a  soul  in  this 
house  would  have  known  anything  about  it." 

"We  don't  know  much  as  it  is,"  muttered  the  cook, 
kneading  handsful  of  butter  into  her  piecrust,  while  Ellen 
made  the  most  of  her  story. 

"  Well,  you  may  know  this,  if  you'll  take  the  trouble  to 
understand,"  answered  Ellen,  with  a  toss  of  her  head.  "  It 
was  full  ten  minutes  before  the  madam  came  out  of  her 
fainting  fit,  and  when  she  did,  it  was  to  sit  up  like  a  ghost 
and  look  around  with  frightened  eyes,  as  if  she  dreaded 
something,  and  there  old  Storms  stood  half  crying.  When 
she  saw  me  the  color  came  back  to  her  face  with  a  rush, 
and  in  her  grand  way,  she  asked  what  I  was  doing  there. 
When  I  attempted  to  answer,  she  pointed  to  the  door  and 
said, 

"  Go,  leave  me.  There  was  nothing  the  matter,  that  you 
should  be  called.  The  heavy  perfume  of  the  flowers  made 
me  faint;  but  Storms  was  enough." 

"  Then  she  arose  with  her  haughtiest  air  and  swept  by 
me  like  a  queen." 

"  Rather  hard  on  you,  Ellen.  I  should  say  it  all  meant 
that  you  wasn't  wanted,"  said  the  cook,  dusting  the  flour 
from  her  hands  with  a  sort  of  glee,  for  she  had  made  that  a 
pretence  for  clapping  them. 


74  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

'•'I  wasn't  addressing  my  conversation  to  you,"  replied 
Ellen,  with  lofty  disdain,  and  was  about  to  say  to  Mr. 
Robert  "that  when  I  wont  into  the  house  madam  passed 
me  without  a  word,  and  shut  herself  up  in  her  own  room 
where  she  has  been  these  two  hours  without  ringing  her 
bell  oDce.     Now  I  say  that  looks  mysterious." 

"  Sensationing,  at  least,"  answered  the  footman. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

JAMES    MAKES  AX    ACQUAINTANCE. 

"Please,  will  you  tell  some  one  to  empty  the  basket 
I've  been  away  from  the  store  ever  so  long." 

It  was  the  voice  of  little  James,  who  had  been  modestly 
waiting  to  be  noticed  while  this  eager  conversation  went  on, 
and  now  addressed  Ellen  as  the  most  important  person  in 
the  room. 

"  Groceries,"  cried  the  girl,  with  a  magnificent  lift  of  the 
head.  "  Do  I  look  as  if  groceries  belonged  to  my  depart- 
ment, boy?" 

"  Give  'em  to  me,"  cried  the  cook,  swinging  the  basket 
up  to  a  dresser  with  the  nerve  of  a  gianr.  "There  is  a 
mighty  difference  between  buttoning  a  lady's  boots  and 
cooking  her  dinner,  of  course.  We  are  all  fine  ladies  here, 
only  it  hasn't  got  about  yet.  There,  now,  run  home  as 
quick  as  you  like." 

"Has  that  boy  been  listening  all  this  time?"  cried 
Ellen,  casting  angry  glances  at  the  blushing  young  face. 

"  I — I  tried  all  I  could  not  to  hear,"  said  the  boy,  mod- 
estly. "It  was  not  my  fault;  I  wanted  to  get  away  from 
the  first." 

'•  Well,  mind  you  hold  your  tongue  about  anything  Pve 


JAMES      MAKES      AN      ACQUAINTANCE.       75 

been  saying,  or  you'll  get  into  trouble,  and  lose  madam's 
custom." 

"  That's  just  as  I  say,"  answered  the  cook,  defiantly. 
You  stick  to  your  ribbons  and  curling  stick,  Ellen  Post ;  I 
and  this  boy  can  get  along  very  well  without  you.  There's 
your  empty  basket,  my  little  fellow  ;  now  run  home,  and 
don't  mind  what  any  one  says  to  you  but  myself;  but  remem- 
ber to  come  earlier  to-morrow,  for  I  am  bound  to  go  out 
early  anyhow,  having  a  little  business  at  the  Savings  Bank 
that  must  be  seen  to,  not  being  one  of  them  stuck-up  persons 
that  heap  everything  on  their  own  backs — I  look  out  for  a 
rainy  day,  I  do." 

Here  the  cook  lifted  her  head  in  the  air  and  took  a  delib- 
erate survey  of  Ellen  Post,  at  which  stage  of  the  quarrel 
James  left  the  kitchen,  full  of  wonder  that  there  could  be 
so  much  discontent  in  a  house  like  that. 

On  his  way  home,  the  lad  almost  ran  against  a  gentleman 
who  was  walking  slowly  along  the  side-walk.  In  attempt- 
ing to  avoid  the  collision  his  foot  slipped,  and  he  fell  for- 
ward upon  the  flags  with  a  force  that  stunned  him  for  the 
moment.  The  gentleman  lifted  him  from  the  stones  in 
considerable  agitation,  and  putting  back  the  hair  from  his 
forehead,  examined  the  bruise,  which  was  swelling  rapidly 
upon  it. 

"  My  poor  boj7,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  so  sweet  with  com- 
passion that  tears  swelled  into  the  lad's  eyes  at  once, 
though  the  pain  of  his  fall  had  brought  no  moisture  there. 

"Oh,  it's  nothing,  sir!  "VVe  boys  are  used  to  such  tum- 
bles. You  are  only  too  kind  about  it.  All  my  own  fault, 
sir,  thank  you  !  " 

"  No,  but  you  are  hurt,  and  need  help.  I  cannot  let  you 
go  home  alone." 

James  tried  to  get  up  a  brave  laugh  ;  but  the  blow  had 
made  him  dizzy,  and  he  staggered  forward  rather  than 
walked. 


76  THE     REIGNING     BELLE. 

"Where  do  you  live?  Xot  far  from  here,  I  suppose," 
iuquired  the  stranger,  with  gentle  kindness. 

"  Oh  !  I  live  in  one  place  and  tend  store  in  another/' 
answered  the  hoy. 

"You  had  hetter  go  home,  then,  and  I  will  get  a  doctor  to 
put  something  on  your  forehead." 

"What,  a  doctor  for  this?  Oh,  my!  that  would  be 
funny  !     The  boys  would  all  laugh  at  me  !" 

'•'Still  you  have  had  a  serious  fall,  and  such  things  are 
often  dangerous.     Tell  me  where  you  live?" 

"  Well,  sir,  if  you  insist  upon  it,  I  am  going  right  by  the 
house.  It  won't  take  long  to  put  a  piece  of  wet  paper  on  a 
fellow's  forehead;  and  as  you  want  to  see  it  done,  I  haven't 
any  objection,  though  mother  and  Euthy  will  be  surprised." 

So  James,  unconscious  of  the  tender  gratitude  which 
prompted  the  act,  gave  one  hand  to  the  stranger,  and  the 
two  walked  along  together. 

""What  is  your  name,  my  little  man?"  inquired  the 
stranger,  greatly  interested  in  the  boy. 

"James.     James  Laurence." 

"Laurence?  I  met  a  young  lady  of  that  name  not  long 
ago — a  very  beautiful  }-oung  lady." 

"  Was  she  in  a  store  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Tall,  with  eyes  that  look  like  water  in  a  shady  place?" 

"  She  had  soft,  pleasant  ej'es." 

"  Did  she  tell  you  her  other  name  ?     Was  it  Eva?" 

"  That  was  her  name." 

"  Well,  then,  you've  seen  one  of  the  brightest,  sweetest, 
darlingest  girls  that  ever  lived,  sir;  let  me  tell  you  that,  if 
she  is  my  sister." 

"Then  the  young  lady  is  really  and  truly  your  sister?" 
said  the  man,  and  a  strange  tone  of  disappointment  broke 
into  hifl  naturally  sad  voice. 

"  Etully  uud  truly  she  is  my  own  sister  ;  but  no  wonder 


JAMES      MAKES      AN      ACQUAINTANCE.       77 

you  can't  just  believe  it,  she's  so  much  grander  and  bright- 
er than  any  of  us.  I  never  see  a  great,  stone  house  like 
that  I  have  just  come  away  from,  without  thinking  our  Eva 
was  made  to  live  in  it,  and  be  a  queen,  with  lots  of  common 
people  to  wait  on  her." 

"What  house  have  you  just  come  from,  my  little  friend?" 

"  Mrs.  Lambert's  ! " 

"  Ha ! " 

"  It  is  that  great  house  on  the  corner,  with  so  many  flow- 
ers behind  it.  Eva  is  so  fond  of  flowers,  too.  It  is  she  who 
trains  up  the  morning  glory  vines,  and  plants  sweet  peas 
and  crimson  beans  among  them.  Sometimes  I  almost  like 
our  little  garden  as  well  as  Mrs.  Lambert's.  We  plant  our 
own  flowers,  you  see,  and  that  makes  a  difference  in  the  way 
of  enjoying  them." 

"  It  does,  indeed  !     Do  you  go  to  Mrs.  Lambert's  often  ?" 

li  I  never  went  there  till  Mrs.  Smith  took  me  into  the 
grocery ;  but  I  used  to  pass  by  the  garden  every  day.  It 
was  a  little  farther  to  school  through  that  street,  but  I  loved 
to  walk  slow  and  look  through  the  iron  fence,  where  the 
great  tea-roses  and  geraniums  seemed  to  set  the  ground  on 
fire,  and  that  white-headed  old  man  moving  about  among 
them  was  like  a  picture.  At  first  he  was  awful  cross,  and 
would  order  me  away,  but  after  a  while,  when  he  saw  that 
I  never  so  much  as  reached  my  hand  through,  he  would 
sometimes  chuck  a  rose,  or  a  sprig  of  something  sweet 
through  the  fence,  and  go  away  chuckling  to  himself.  I 
always  carried  the  flowers  to  Ruthy,  or  our  Eva,  they  are 
both  so  fond  of  them,  you  know,  and  this  made  us  all  just  a 
little  acquainted  with  the  great  house  up  yonder.  I  dare 
say  the  proud  lady  would  think  our  garden  no  great  things, 
but  the  girls  love  it  a  good  deal  better  than  she  loves  hers, 
I  promise  you ;  for,  go  by  ever  so  often,  I  hardly  ever  see 
her  in  it." 

"  Have  you  ever  spoken  to  the  lady  ?  " 


78  THE      REIGNING      Ji  K  L  I.  K. 

a  What — me  ?     No,  indeed  ;  but  she  spoke  to  me  once  !  " 

"  How  was  that?" 

"  One  day  when  I  was  walking  with  my  sister  Eva.  she 
leaned  out  of  her  carriage,  and  looked  after  us  in  a  strange 
earnest  way,  that  made  Eva  pull  down  her  veil.  The  next 
day,  as  I  was  going  along  by  the  garden-fence,  the  lady  was 
close  by  me  picking  flowers  on  the  other  side.  I  Bup] 
my  e\-es  looked  greedy  for  them,  for  she  called  to  me  in  a 
kind,  sweet  way,  and  reached  some  of  her  flowers  through 
the  railing.  I  was  afraid  to  touch  them  at  first ;  but  she 
6miled,  and  said,  Old  Storms  had  told  her  how  I  loved  to 
hang  about  the  railing,  and  that  I  had  a  young  lady  with 
me  once,  who  seemed  as  fond  of  flowers  as  I  was." 

"Oh  !  I  said,  a  thousand  times  more  so.  Eva  loves  them 
better  than  anything  in  the  world.  When  I  said  Eva,  the 
lady  seemed  to  grow  restless,  and  dropped  some  of  her 
flowers  without  noticing  it." 

"  That's  a  singular  name,"  she  said,  "that  is "' 

"That  is,  for  poor  people,  I  said,  when  she  stopped,  as  if 
afraid  of  hurting  my  feelings.  Yes,  we  all  know  that;  but 
then  our  Eva  never  seemed  like  poor  people.  Everybody 
thinks  she  is  a  lady — and  so  she  is,  every  inch  of  her. 

"  The  madam  smiled  when  I  said  this,  and  her  face  grew 
red  as  a  rose  all  in  a  minute,  as  if  I  had  been  praising  her 
instead  of  Eva,  which  wasn't  likel}',  being  only  a  little  boy, 
and  she  a  splendid  lady.  Then  she  asked  me  about  my 
father  who  was  killed,  sir,  when  we  needed  him  most ;  and 
about  my  mother  who  was  working  so  hard  to  keep  us 
together,  and  said  that  perhaps  she  would  come  some  time 
and  see  our  garden,  if  it  was  so  pretty;  but  she  never 
can.' 

The  Btranger  listened  to  that  frank,  young  voice  with 
gentle  interest,  asking  a  f>-w  questions  now  and  then,  al- 
ways calculating  to  draw  out  Borne  detail  about  the  lady  of 
the  great  house,  but  without  directly  alluding  to  her. 


JAMES     MAKES      AN      ACQUAINTANCE.         79 

"But  since  then  you  have  heen  to  the  house?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  after  I  went  into  business.  That  was  what 
took  me  there  to-day." 

James  spoke  guarded!}-,  now  he  remembered  that  what 
he  had  overheard  was  not  his  to  tell.  The  stranger  showed 
no  disposition  to  carry  the  subject  further,  but  fell  into 
thought,  and  moved  forward  as  if  he  had  been  alone. 

"There,  there!  you  see  Eva's  morniug  glories  running 
up  the  window,"  cried  the  boy. 

"la  this  your  home,  my  boy?" 

"Yes,  sir,  while  we  can  keep  it,  that  is;  but  who  knows 
what  good  luck  will  come  next!  If  I  were  only  a  man 
now ! " 

"So  you  long  to  be  a  man?"  said  the  stranger,  looking 
down  at  the  lad  with  sorrowful  interest. 

"Yes,  I  do.  Then,  sir,  I  would  keep  that  roof  over  my 
mother's  head  in  spite  of  all  the  mortgages  in  the  world. 
Oh  !  how  I  would  work  ! " 

"  Brave  lad,  how  I  envy  you." 

"Envy  me!  Well,  yes,  I  am  a  good  deal  happier  than 
one  could  expect.  Working  for  women  who  love  you  isn't 
bad  fun ;  but  here  is  the  gate,  and  there  is  Ruthy,  you  can 
see  her  through  the  window.  Won't  she  wonder  who  it  is, 
and  what  brings  me  home  this  time  of  day?" 

"You  seem  to  have  forgotten  your  hurt?" 

"No,  it  feels  a  little  heavy,  and  smarts  some;  but  I'll 
pull  my  cap  down  not  to  frighten  them.  Of  course,  it's 
nothing ;  but  then  one's  mother  is  so  tender  of  a  fellow. 
There!" 

James  pulled  his  cap  far  over  his  bruised  forehead,  and 
opening  the  gate,  invited  his  strange  guest  to  pass  in. 


80  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 


-V 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE    GENTLE     INVALID. 


Ruth  Laurence  though  an  invalid,  was  pining  for 
something  which  might  occupy  the  slender  hands  which 
seemed  all  too  frail  for  lahor.  She  could  do  many  pretty 
trifles,  however,  with  those  deft  ringers,  and  in  her  soul  lay  a 
deep  love  of  art,  which  they  were  patiently  striving  to  work 
out,  whenever  a  bit  of  wax  or  a  scrap  of  paper  fell  in  her  way. 
Sometimes,  as  the  wind  swept  through  the  open  windows  of 
that  little  room,  it  carried  off  tiny  morsels  of  paper,  on  which 
a  butterfly,  a  bird,  or  a  flower  was  sketched,  which  went 
whirling  off  among  the  old-fashioned  flowers  like  a  living 
thing.  Sometimes  Ruth  would  manage  to  get  ravelings  from 
scraps  of  silk,  out  of  which  she  wrought  rose-buds  for  pin- 
cushions, and  groups  of  blossoms  for  segar-cases  which 
brought  in  a  shilling  or  two,  now  and  then,  for  the  scanty 
household-fund,  and  gave  her  a  world  of  happiness  in  the 
sweet  power  of  creation. 

She  was  lying  on  her  couch,  close  by  the  window,  with  a 
bit  of  drawing  paper  in  her  hand,  on  which  the  soft  shadows 
of  a  white  rose  were  forming  themselves,  when  a  click  of  the 
gate-latch,  and  the  sound  of  strange  footsteps  made  her  start 
and  look  through  the  window.  She  saw  her  brother  James 
by  the  gate,  and  with  him  a  tall  man,  whom  she  had 
never  seen  before.  The  stranger  waited  a  moment  for  the 
boy  to  complete  what  ho  was  saying,  and  then  crossed  the 
little  yard,  while  James  ran  forward  to  open  the  door. 

"  Ruthy !  Ruthy,  dear  !  just  sit  up  a  little,  if  you  can  ;  I 
have  brought  a  gentleman,  who  wants  to  get  acquainted  with 
US.  1  told  him  all  about  things,  you  know,  and  he  seems 
to  think  — W.lh  1  don't  know  what  he  thinks— but  some- 
thing awful  kind,  I'm  sure.'' 


THE      GENTLE     INVALID.  81 

"While  James  stood  in  the  doorway  uttering  this  exciting 
little  speech,  Ruth  arose  feebly  from  her  pillows,  dropped  her 
feet  to  the  floor,  and  turned  her  eyes  upon  the  stranger  in 
breathless  expectation.  She  saw  a  tall  slender  man,  some 
forty  or  forty-five  years  of  age,  with  hair  that  had  once 
been  black  as  the  neck  of  a  raven,  large  dark  eyes  full  of 
calm  sadness,  a  forehead  as  white  as  marble,  and  but  faintly 
lined.  To  these  were  added  a  fine  sensitive  mouth,  to 
which  laughter  seemed  to  come  never,  and  smiles  but 
seldom;  still,  in  his  face  and  quiet,  gentlemanly  air,  was 
that  indescribable  something  which  awakes  sympathy  and 
verges  on  tenderness. 

"  Forgive  me,  young  lady ;  I  did  not  intend  to  intrude  on 
you  in  this  abrupt  way,"  he  said,  lifting  his  hat  as  he  crossed 
the  threshold.  "I  have  met  a  young  lady,  your  sister,  I 
think,  who  half  gave  me  permission  to  call." 

"My  sister  is  not  at  home,"  answered  Ruth,  blushing; 
for  she  was  so  unaccustomed  to  the  sight  of  a  stranger  that 
the  presence  of  this  one  set  her  heart  into  a  wild  flutter. 

"I  know;  this  good  lad  told  me  as  much.  He  also  told 
me  some  other  things  about  his  family,  that  made  me  think 
— that  made  me  hope — "  The  stranger  paused,  and  bent 
his  eyes  upon  the  girl  with  a  long,  wistful  look,  that  seemed 
pleading  with  her  for  help. 

"Perhaps  you  hoped  to  find  some  one  that  you  knew  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  did  hope  that — but  it  was  long  ago.  No 
friend  of  mine  could  be  young  as  you  are." 

"  Was  it  somebody  you  wanted  to  find,  then  ?  Perhaps 
mother  may  help  you." 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  man,  abstractedly,  still  gazing  in 
that  delicate  young  face,  as  if  searching  its  features,  one  by 
one. 

"She  knew  all  my  poor  father's  friends,"  said  Ruth, 
embarrassed  by  the  silence. 

"  Ah,  yes  !  I  should  like  to  see  your  mother." 
5 


82  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

Ruth  lifted  her  voice  a  little,  and  called  out : 

"Mother!     Mother!" 

"Well,  I  must  be  going.  It's  so  long  since  I  went  out, 
and  they'll  miss  me  at  the  store,"  said  little  James,  who  had 
waited  in  silence  for  something  strange  to  happen  ;  for  this 
advent  of  a  stranger  seemed  full  of  importance  to  him. 
"  Good-bye,  Ruthy  ;  good-bye,  sir  !     I'm  off." 

As  James  ran  down  the  front  yard,  Mrs.  Laurence  came 
into  the  little  parlor,  untying  the  apron  in  which  she  bad 
been  working  as  she  came  in.  Mr.  Ross  started,  and  turn- 
ing in  his  chair,  regarded  her  with  a  sharp,  scrutinizing 
look,  which  deepened  into  an  expression  of  keen  disappoint- 
ment. 

"This  is  my  mother,"  said  Ruth,  bending  her  head,  while 
Mrs.  Laurence  paused  to  fling  her  apron  back  into  the  kitch- 
en, when  she  saw  a  stranger  in  the  room. 

Ross  arose,  and  stood  a  moment,  waiting  for  Mrs.  Lau- 
rence to  advance;  for,  though  everything  was  humble,  and 
even  poverty-stricken  around  them,  he  felt  that  these 
women  were  naturally  far  above  the  level  of  their  appear- 
ance. 

"I  have  intruded,  Madam,  perhaps  rudely,"  he  said,  at 
last;  "but  having  met  one  of  your  children  by  accident, 
her  resemblance  to  one — to  an  old  friend — was  so  striking, 
that  I  ventured  to  inquire  about  her  here." 

Mrs.  Laurence  seemed  more  than  usuallj'  disturbed  by 
this  speech;  she  turned  a  cold  glance  on  her  visitor,  and 
said, 

"I  cannot  remember  of  ever  seeing  you  before,  sir;  there 
must  be  some  mistake." 

Ross  looked  search ingly  at  the  woman,  as  she  spoke;  her 
voice  was  linn  and  Bomewhai  harsh  ;  her  reception  of  his 
polite  address  a  little  repellant;  but  she  motioned  him  to 
take  a  scat,  ami  occupied  one  herself,  putting  down  hex 
sleeves,  which  had  been  rolled  up  t<>  the  elbows. 


THE      GENTLE      INVALID.  83 

"  I  once  knew  a  man  of  your  name,"  said  Ross,  regard- 
ing the  woman  with  a  look  of  hesitation. 

"  Was  he  a  policeman  ?  "  questioned  Mrs.  Laurence. 

"Not  while  I  knew  him.  We  were  boys  in  the  same 
school." 

"  How  long  was  that  ago  ?  " 

"  More  than  twenty  years — that  is,  it  is  almost  that  since 
we  parted." 

Mrs.  Laurence  reflected  a  moment,  then  lifting  her  face, 
said, 

"Well?" 

"  He  was  the  dearest  friend  I  ever  had.  When  I  left  him, 
he  promised  to  watch  over  my  interests,  to " 

"  May  I  ask  your  name,"  said  Mrs.  Laurence  now  keenly 
aroused. 

"  Ross — Herman  Ross." 

Mrs.  Laurence  turned  her  eyes  from  the  face  she  had 
been  studying  witb  a  sort  of  terror,  and  her  voice  grew  low 
and  hoarse  as  she  questioned  him  further. 

"And  the  name  of  your  friend — his  full  name?" 

"  Leonard — Leonard  Laurence." 

"That  was  father's  name,"  said  Ruth,  in  a  half  whisper, 
looking  at  her  mother,  who  groaned  heavily,  without  saying 
a  word.  Low  as  the  words  were  spoken,  Ross  heard  them, 
and  his  face  kindled. 

"  Then,  3'oung  lady,  your  father  was  my  close  friend,  and 
loved  me  like  a  brother.  Will  you  not  trust  and  like  me  a 
little  for  his  sake  ?  " 

"I  love  everything  that  he  loved,"  said  Ruth,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes;  and  she  held  out  her  frail  little  hand,  which 
Ross  took,  reverently ;  then  he  turned  to  the  other  woman 
with  a  look  of  touching  appeal. 

"  And  you  are  Leonard  Laurence's  wife.  I  remember 
seeing  you  once,  a  fair,  young  bride." 

The  iron  muscles  about  the  woman's  mouth  began  to 
quiver,  and  a  flush  came  around  her  pale-blue  eyes. 


84  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

l;  There  is  a  long  weary  stretch  between  now  and  then," 
she  said,  turning  away  her  face. 

"There  is,  indeed!'*  responded  Ross,  with  a  sigh,  which 
stirred  his  bosom  with  the  force  of  a  groan.  "  A  long,  weary 
stretch ;  full  of  desolation  to  more  than  you  and  me." 

"  It  gave  him  a  violent  death,  and  me  widowhood  like 
this,*'  said  the  woman,  turning  cold  and  white. 

••  The  boy  told  me  something  of  this,  but  I  was  not  sure 
it  was  the  same  man.  I  hoped  to  find  him  alive  and  p.  - 
perous.  This  is  a  hard,  hard  blow  to  a  man  who  had  so  tew 
friends."' 

The  woman  looked  at  him  jealously,  as  if  his  evident 
grief  encroached  upon  her  own  melancholy  right  of  sorrow. 
From  the  first,  she  seemed  to  regard  him  as  a  person  to  be 
kept  at  arms-length. 

"Tell  me  more — tell  me  how  he  died?"  said  Ross,  in  a 
tremulous  voice.  "  It  will  be  a  pain,  I  know ;  but  this  sus- 
pense and  conjecture  will  have  no  end,  without  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  all  that  relates  to  him.     I  must  know." 

Ruth  looked  wistfully  at  her  mother,  and  was  about  to 
utter  some  tender  protest ;  but  Mrs.  Laurence  lifted  her 
hand,  as  if  she  understood  the  kind  impulse,  and  was  ready 
to  take  up  her  hard  task. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    POLICEMAN'S    DEATH. 


"It  was  during  the  Rebellion,"  said  Mrs.  Laurence, 
"when  the  laboring-classes  of  the  city  went  wild  with  a  mad 
idea  that  the  draft  was  intended  to  oppress  them  and  favor  the 
rich.  Most  of  our  city  troops  had  been  drawn  off  to  cheek 
the  advance  of  the  enemy,  and  a  fearful  duty  fell  upou  the 


THE      POLICEMAN    S      DEATH.  CO 

police — as  brave  a  set  of  men   as  ever  went  to   any  battle- 
field. 

<;  The  riot  came  upon  us  unexpectedly.  My  husband 
seemed  rather  more  than  usually  anxious  that  morning, 
but  not  really  apprehensive.  He  was  then  a  captain  in 
the  force,  and  held  to  be  one  of  the  bravest  and  most  expe- 
rienced men  among  them.  You  have  seen  him.  You  know 
what  manner  of  man  he  was  ;  but,  no — you  knew  him  in 
his  youth — this  was  in  his  perfect  prime.  In  the  glow  of 
health,  in  the  might  of  firm  resolution,  he  left  me  that  day. 
I  watched  him  going  down  the  street,  from  that  window — 
that  very  window,  sir.  We  had  just  built  this  house,  then, 
and  were  making  it  a  home  for  the  children.  The  young- 
est was  by  my  side ;  he  had  mounted  a  chair,  and  was  clap- 
ping his  hands  and  shouting  for  his  father  to  look  back. 

"Leonard  was  anxious,  and  walked  on  swiftly;  for 
strange  noises  were  in  the  air,  while  groups  of  men  and 
women  gathered  in  the  street,  suddenly,  as  if  they  sprang 
out  of  the  earth.  Still,  my  husband  heard  the  shouts  of 
his  child,  and  turning,  waved  his  hand  to  us.  I  saw  that 
no  smile  lighted  his  face.  He  stopped,  and  seemed  to  listen. 
A  low  howl  swept  up  the  street,  as  if  a  den  of  wild  beasts 
were  clamoring  for  food.  This  time,  he  waved  his  club,  and 
plunged  into  a  great  crowd  of  people,  that  choked  up  the 
street,  menacing  him  with  threats.  That  great  heaving 
crowd  poured  itself  upon  him  and  tossed  him  into  its 
midst  with  shouts  that  made  me  quake  from  head  to  foot. 

';  That  was  an  awful  day.  He  had  left  me  in  charge  of 
our  children,  and  I  dared  not  leave  them  for  a  moment.  My 
home  was  in  the  very  heart  of  a  disaffected  district.  My 
husband  was  obnoxious,  from  his  strict  discharge  of  duty, 
and  suspected  of  more  education,  and  higher  ambition,  than 
the  horde  that  surrounded  us.  Lonely  as  our  household 
was,  danger  menaced  us.  Twice  during  the  day  a  crowd 
came  up  the  street,  swarmed   into   our  little    garden,  and 


86  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

threatened  to  burn  the  house.  They  would  have  done  it, 
too,  but  for  Eva,  who  flung  the  door  open,  and  standing 
on  the  threshold,  told  them  that  she  was  there  to  protect 
her  mother  and  two  children,  younger  and  weaker  than 
herself. 

"Oh,  sir!  if  you  could  have  seen  that  child  standing 
there,  and  braving  that  crowd  of  fiends !  How  beautiful 
she  looked,  with  her  coal  black  hair  all  abroad ;  her  great 
eyes  burning  with  courageous  firo,  hurling  words  of  wild 
appeal,  like  bullets,  into  the  crowd.  The}'  met  her,  first, 
with  groans  of  derision,  then  with  fierce  shouts  of  applause, 
swearing  that  she  was  worthy  to  lead  in  their  own  hot  work ; 
worthy  of  a  place  by  the  demoniac  women  who  knew  how  to 
cut  their  way  through  fire  and  blood  to  the  heart  of  an  aris- 
tocrat. 

"  Before  I  could  reach  my  child,  or  even  cry  out,  a  gaunt, 
gray-headed  old  woman,  with  blazing  eyes,  and  lips  blister- 
ed with  oaths,  seized  her  by  the  arm,  shouting, 

"'Yes,  yes!  let  us  set  her  on  to  help  us!  She  shall  tear 
the  brats  from  out  of  their  silk  nests  in  the  avenue,  up 
yonder,  and  drown  them  in  the  gutters  !  This  is  fancy 
work;  just  fit  for  a  daring  imp  that  isn't  afraid  of  us! 
Them  who  ain't  afeared  to  fight  us  are  bound  to  lead  us. 
We  want  a  girl,  about  her  age,  to  hunt  up  the  small  fry, 
and  fling  them  down  for  us  to  trample  in  the  mud.' 

"  As  the  woman  spoke,  she  lifted  Eva  from  her  feet,  and 
would  have  hurled  her  into  the  crowd;  but  I  pushed  the 
children  from  me,  and  sprang  upon  her  with  the  strength 
of  a  strong  man  in  my  arms.  The  struggle  was  short  aud 
fierce.  I  rescued  Eva,  and  thrusting  her  behind  me,  took 
her  place  on  the  threshold  of  our  home.  The  woman 
sprang  upon  me  like  a  fiend ;  froth  flew  like  snow-flakes 
from  her  writhing  lips,  and  a  glow  of  blood  burned  in  her 
eyes — but  I  had  three  children  to  save. 

"  How    I  saved   them ;  what   words   were   used  j  if  the 


THE     POLICEMAN'S     DEATH.  87 

strength  of  desperation,  that  fairly  turned  every  nerve  in 
my  body  to  iron,  was  put  forth  at  all,  I  do  not  know;  but 
the  crowd  broke,  filling  the  air  with  shouts  of  laughter,  and 
surged  away,  dragging  that  fiend-woman  with  them. 

"  Then  I  bolted  the  doors,  and  fell  down,  weaker  and 
more  helpless  than  the  children  who  crept  around  me,  too 
frightened  for  crying.  All  day  long,  the  howling  of  the 
mob,  the  shrieks  of  terrified  negroes,  and  the  rush  of  crowds, 
sweeping  by  on  some  errand  of  destruction,  filled  us  with 
shuddering  dread.  When  night  came  we  were  still  alone, 
watchful  and  trembling  with  unutterable  fear.  I  did  not 
think  it  strange  that  my  husband  was  absent.  While  there 
was  a  duty  to  perform,  I  knew  that  we  need  not  hope  to  see 
him.     But,  oh,  the  suspense  was  terrible ! 

"All  night  we  waited  and  listened  to  the  gathering 
storm,  to  the  howlings  of  the  mob,  the  startling  crash  of 
fire-bells,  following  close  on  each  other,  and  the  sharp 
shrieks  of  men  and  women,  trampled  under  foot  by  the 
merciless  rioters,  whose  fury  it  was  my  husband's  duty  to 
quell.  Oh,  that  was  an  awful  night !  At  each  sound  my 
children  would  creep  closer  to  me,  and  while  the  heart 
quivered  in  my  bosom,  I  tried  to  comfort  them. 

"Toward  morning,  a  messenger  came  from  my  husband. 
He  was  still  at  his  post,  and  might  not  be  able  to  leave  it 
that  day.  We  must  keep  bravely  up,  and  remain  quiet, 
otherwise  his  mind  would  be  so  distracted  that  it  might  be 
hard  to  go  through  what  lay  before  him. 

"  I  learned  from  the  messenger  that  Leonard  had  tasted 
no  food  since  morning,  and  hastily  gathered  up  what  there 
was  cooked  in  the  house.  I  sent  it  to  him  with  the  chil- 
dren's love.  Of  course,  we  would  be  brave  and  quiet,  I 
said.  He  must  not  care  for  us.  I  would  mind  the  children, 
if  God  would  only  take  care  of  him.  I  said  this  bravely, 
but  my  heart  quailed  within  me  as  I  spoke. 

"  The  messenger  promised  to  come  back  in  an  hour  or  two, 


83  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

and  we  waited  for  him  with  growing  terror,  for  the  crash  of 
the  fire-bells  was  perpetual  now.  All  around  us,  red 
tongues  of  flame  were  shooting  up  through  burning  roofs, 
and  the  streets  were  full  of  straggling  rioters,  with  the 
plunder  of  sacked  homes  on  their  backs;  some  of  them 
reeling  with  intoxication,  and  cursing  everything  they  met, 
as  men  and  women  cursed  each  other  around  the  guillotines 
of  Paris,  and  in  the  slaughter  of  the  communes.  These 
sights  kept  me  at  the  window.  An  awful  fascination  drew 
me  toward  the  street  whenever  a  fresh  mob  came  crowding 
along  it.  How  did  I  know  that  he  might  not  be  there 
struggling  against  the  stormy  passions  that  filled  the  city 
with  smoke  and  thunder. 

"The  sun  was  going  down  on  the  second  day,  and  there 
we  stood,  carefully  holding  back  the  window-curtain,  and 
straining  our  eyes  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  his  coming, 
or  of  some  messenger  who  could  tell  us  of  his  safety.  All 
at  once,  a  sound  of  low,  growling  thunder  rolled  down  one 
of  the  cross-streets,  and  before  we  could  tell  what  it  meant, 
a  group  of  policemen  came  up  the  street,  each  man  armed 
and  resolute,  but  white  as  marble,  with  a  knowledge  of  the 
fearful  odds  against  them.  The  leader  of  these  men,  tower- 
ing above  them  all,  was  my  husband.  He  never  once  looked 
toward  the  house.  Perhaps  he  feared  that  the  sight  of  it 
would  unman  him.  With  a  loud,  ringing  voice,  that  reached 
us  where  we  stood,  he  gave  some  orders  to  his  men,  who 
ranged  themselves  across  the  street,  from  which  danger 
threatened.  In  a  moment  they  were  swept  back  by  a  throng 
of  rioters — swept  back  and  scattered  by  a  rush  of  over- 
powering numbers.  A  shot  was  fired,  and  one  man  fell — 
the  tallest,  the  grandest.  Oh,  God,  help  me  ! — the  bravest 
of  them  all.  I  saw  him  go  down.  I  saw  the  mob  trample 
over  him  with  yells  of  rage.  His  groans,  his  death-agony 
are    unheeded  as  the  stones  under  those  brutal  feet. 

"  I  never  knew  how  it  was  done,  but  in  a  moment  I  was 


ARTIST     SYMPATHY.  89 

struggling  and  buffeting  my  way  through  that  avalanche 
of  human  fiends,  as  drowning  men  fight  with  the  surging 
waters  of  a  flood.  Perhaps  they  had  some  compassion  ;  or, 
it  may  be,  that  my  white  face  frightened  them,  for  the  crowd 
broke  where  he  was  lying,  and  scattered  away,  tracking  his 
blood  upon  the  pavement  as  they  went.  I  fell  down  on  my 
knees  by  his  side.  I  laid  my  hand  on  his  heart,  and  drew 
it  away  wet  and  red.  His  eyes  were  open-,  but  they  could 
not  see  his  poor  wife ;  his  lips  were  parted  beneath  the 
shadow  of  his  beard,  which  the  wind  stirred,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  he  was  speaking.  But,  no;  his  murderers 
had  done  their  work  well.  I  knelt  down  upon  those  hot, 
dusty  stones  and  covered  my  face,  that  they  might  not  look 
upon  the  agony  of  my  grief. 

"Eva  had  followed  me,  and  the  little  ones  had  cluug  to 
her  shivering  and  crying  as  she  pressed  through  the  crowd. 
We  were  all  together — his  little  family,  wife  and  children — 
but  he  was  dead.  They  would  not  believe  it,  but  called 
upon  him  with  feeble  cries  to  look  up  and  say  that  he  was 
not  much  hurt,  /knew  that  he  was  dead;  that  they  were 
orphans,  and  I,  his  wife,  a  widow." 


CHAPTER  XY. 

AETIST    SYMPATHY. 

The  woman  ceased  speaking.  During  her  whole  narra- 
tive she  had  shed  no  tears,  but  her  voice  was  low  and  cold, 
like  the  air  that  comes  from  a  tomb.  Her  lips  never  quiv- 
ered, but  they  grew  white  as  death.  While  her  mother 
was  talking,  Euth  had  partly  risen  and  drew  the  window- 
curtains  softly  together,  hoping  thus  to  shroud  something 
of  the   grief  which    this   man   had   so   painfully  aroused. 


90  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

Then  she  sunk  back  upon  her  couch,  and  looked  at  the 
stranger  reproachfully  through  her  tears.  Mr.  Ross  sat 
gazing  upon  the  floor,  with  trouble  in  his  eyes.  He  felt 
all  the  pain  he  had  given,  and  the  thought  was  full  of 
distress. 

<l  Yes,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  I  knew  Laurence  well.  He 
was  brave,  noble,  well-educated.  How  comes  it  that  he 
took  a  position  which  proved  so  fatal  to  him  and  to  you?" 

"  He  could  get  nothing  better  to  do,"  said  Mrs.  Laurence, 
drearily,  "  and  I  had  no  power  to  help  him.  But  for  the 
children,  I  might  have  obtained  my  old  position  as  a 
teacher ;  bu«t  they  needed  all  my  care.  At  first,  he  did  not 
intend  to  remain  in  the  police,  but  time  reconciled  us  to  it, 
and  he  would  soon  have  laid  up  enough  capital  for  a  start  in 
business.  It  is  all  gone  now;  for  I  would  not  let  the  chil- 
dren go  out  into  the  world  without  education,  and  they 
loved  study." 

"I  can  easily  believe  that,"  said  Ross,  glancing  at  Ruth, 
who  still  kept  her  position,  with  tears  trembling  on  her 
eye-lashes — a  delicate,  fair  girl,  with  the  refinement  of  a 
cultivated  intellect  in  every  feature.  "  At  least  you  ace 
blessed  in  the  children  my  friend  loved  so  well." 

"  They  are  good  children,"  answered  the  woman,  wearily ; 
for  the  excitement  of  her  narrative  had  left  her  cold  and 
weak.  Still,  the  stranger  looked  as  if  something  was  un- 
explained. He  moved  across  the  room,  and  in  a  vague  way 
took  up  the  bit  of  drawing-paper,  on  which  Ruth  had  sketch- 
ed her  white  roses.  The  delicacy  of  the  touch,  and  free  un- 
folding of  the  buds,  seemed  to  arrest  his  thoughts,  and  turn 
them  into  another  channel.  His  eyes  brightened,  and 
bending  them  upon  Ruth,  he  asked  her  if  Bhe  had  over  at- 
tempted anything  in  oils." 

Ruth  blushed  and  casting  her  eyes  down,  that  he  might 
remark  the  longing  wish  that  spoke  there,  answered, 
"No;  it  had  heeu  impossible." 


ARTIST      SYMPATHY.  91 

He  seemed  to  understand  the  craving  wish  that  had 
never  yet  been  expressed,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
observed, 

a  I  sometimes  paint  a  little."  Then,  after  hesitating  a 
minute,  he  added,  "There  must  be  an  upper  room  in  your 
house  which  would  give  sufficient  light.'"' 

"Yes,"  answered  Ruth,  vaguely  comprehending  his  idea. 
"  But  mother  was  in  hopes  of  letting  that,  if  she  could  find 
a  nice  person." 

The  flash  of  a  kindly  thought  came  into  those  dark  eyes, 
and  Boss  seemed  about  to  speak ;  but  he  checked  himself, 
looked  at  the  sketch  again,  and  laid  it  down. 

"Is  your  sister  anything  of  an  artist?"  he  inquired. 

"Oh,  Eva  can  do  almost  anything!"  said  Euth,  and 
her  face  brightened  out  of  its  mournful  look. 

"  She  is  older  than  you,  I  should  think." 

"Older?  Oh,  yes  !  And  a  thousand  times  brighter  than 
I  ever  shall  be.     But,  then,  there  is  no  one  like  our  Eva." 

"She  is,  indeed,  a  bright,  beautiful  creature." 

"  Everybody  thinks  that  of  her." 

The  man  looked  earnestly  at  Euth.  Some  thought  was 
in  his  mind  which  he  did  not  know  how  to  express.  The 
girl  before  him  was  very  lovely,  but  part  of  this  arose  from 
that  exquisite  fairness,  which  exclusion  from  the  sun  and 
frail  health  had  imparted,  and  was  in  extreme  contrast  with 
the  dark,  rich  beauty  of  her  sister.  Euth  read  something 
of  this  thought  in  the  man's  face  and  answered  it,  smilinor. 

"  Yes,  everybody  wonders  that  we  are  so  unlike ;  but  that 
is  in  all  respects.  She  is  strong,  cheerful,  splendid,  while  I 
— Oh,  Sir !  you  can  see  how  different  I  am." 

"  I  can  see  that  you  are  doing  yourself  injustice,"  said 
Eoss,  taking  his  hat.  "  Bui  excuse  me,  that  I  have  intrud- 
ed so  long,  as  your  father's  old  friend.  You  must  let  me 
come  again.     I  ma}'  be  of  some  service." 

Mrs.  Laurence  bent  her  head,  and  her  visitor  departed. 


92  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

MRS.    CARTER    MAKES    A    VISIT. 

"Mother!  mother!  come  here  ! " 

Ruth  lifted  her  sweet  voice  a  little,  and  spoke  with  some 
excitement,  for  she  was  taken  quite  by  surprise  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  magnificent  carriage  before  the  gate;  a  carri- 
age that  seemed  half  made  of  translucent  glass.  Two  pre- 
tentious menials  in  livery  sat  between  the  glittering  lamps 
on  each  side  the  coachman's  seat,  and  a  pair  of  chestnut 
horses  arched  their  necks,  tossed  their  heads,  and  made  their 
gold-mounted  harness  rattle  again  with  their  proud,  impa- 
tient movements,  while  one  of  those  solemn  personages  let 
himself  to  the  ground  and  opened  the  carriage-door. 

"This  is  the  place,  ma'am.  It  doesn't  seem  possible,  but 
this  is  the  place.  I  only  hope  Battles  will  be  able  to  hold 
the  bosses  ;  but  they  don't  like  it." 

"  Just  stand  aside,  keep  my  dress  from  the  wheels,  and 
mind  j'our  own  business,  Jacob,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  with  an 
imperious  wave  of  her  hand,  as  she  rolled  herself  through 
the  door  of  the  carriage,  and  lighted  heavily  on  the  pave- 
ment. "  If  I  know  mj'self  intimately  you  were  hired  to 
open  doors,  and  shut  your  own  mouth.  So  this  is  the  place, 
is  it?  And  a  lovely  place  it  is!  Quite  a  rustic  cottage! 
There,  now  }'ou  may  open  the  gate!" 

While  she  was  delivering  this  reprimand  to  her  servant, 
Mrs.  Carter  shook  out  her  flounces,  drew  the  lace  shawl 
more  jauntily  over  her  Bhoulder,  and  swept  through  the 
gate  with  all  the  magnificence  and  glory  of  an  empress 
about  to  honor  Borne  subject  by  her  presence.  Half-way  up 
the  path  she  remembered  what  was  due  to  herself,  and 
stepped  back  into  a  flower-bed,  waving  Jacob  forward  with 

her  baud. 


MRS.      CARTER      MAKES      A     VISIT.  93 

The  tall  footman  cast  a  look  of  unutterable  disgust  at  his 
fellow-servant  on  the  box,  and,  striding  up  the  path,  gave  a 
pull  at  the  humble  little  bell  that  filled  the  whole  house 
with  its  tinkling.  Mrs.  Laurence  came  to  the  door,  grim 
and  gaunt,  but  neat  in  her  dress,  and  composed  in  manner. 

"Does  Mrs.  Laurence  live  here?  "  inquired  the  tall  foot- 
man, striking  his  gloves  together,  as  if  the  bell-handle  had 
left  offensive  dust  on  them. 

9 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Laurence. 

"  Ah,  indeed  !     This  is  the  lady,  marum." 

Mrs.  Carter  came  forward,  smiling  blandly,  and  holding 
out  her  straw-colored  glove  with  an  air  of  sublime  conde- 
scension. 

Mrs.  Laurence  took  the  tightly-gloved  hand  stiffly  enough, 
and  let  it  fall  from  her  clasp  without  a  smile.  She  had  suf- 
fered, this  poor  widow,  and  smiles  did  not  come  easily  to  her 
face;  but  if  cold,  she  was  well-bred,  and  stood  aside  that 
her  strange  guest  might  enter  the  little  passage-way,  and 
pass  through  the  open  parlor-door. 

"How  cozy  —  how  exquisite!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carter, 
glancing  around  at  the  snow  white  muslin  curtains  and  the 
neat  furniture,  which  would  have  been  poverty-stricken  in 
other  houses.  "  No  wonder  my  dear  brother  was  so  charm- 
ed. 'Such  a  contrast!'  he  said,  when  he  found  me  in  my 
1  boudoir  bower  chamber,'  he  says,  they  used  to  call  it,  in 
old  times.  '  Such  a  contrast,'  says  he,  between  you  and 
them — between  this  and  that !  You  with  everything  grand 
and  sumptuous;  they  nothing  but  taste — pure,  aesthetic 
taste  !     Their  little  room  is  a  bijou  ! '     Just  as  I  find  it ! " 

Mrs.  Carter  seated  herself  as  she  spoke,  and  turned  her 
full-blown,  smiling  face  on  Ruth,  who  answered  her  appeal 
with  a  look  of  gentle  welcome;  while  her  mother  stood  by, 
evidently  waiting  to  learn  why  her  humble  home  had  been 
so  grandly  invaded. 

Mrs.  Carter  observed  this,  and  waved  her  hand  benignly. 


94  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"Sit  down!  sit  down,  Mrs.  Laurence;  have  no  hesita- 
tion about  it.  I  have  been  a  poor  woman  myself;  so,  never 
mind  the  apron,  but  sit  down.  My  call  is  for  you  as  well 
as  the  young  people  !  " 

Mrs.  Laurence  took  a  seat  near  the  door,  and  muttered 
something  about  being  "  a  hard-working  woman,"  which 
Mrs.  Carter  took  up  at  once. 

"  'Hard-working  !'  Don't  mention  it,  my  dear  madam  ! 
Your  little  housework  here  is  nothing  to  what  I  have  thrown 
upon  me.  What  with  receptions,  shopping,  promiscuous 
calls,  regulating  servants,  the  torment  of  dress-makers, 
and  entertaining  Carter's  friends,  I  am  just  worn  out. 
Sometimes  I  think  the  happiest  time  of  a  woman's  life  is 
when  she  lives  in  two  rooms,  and  carries  her  baby  about  on 
one  arm,  while  she  does  her  work  with  the  other ! " 

"  Still,"  said  Ruth,  with  a  quiet  smile,  "  we  seldom  find 
ladies  willing  to  give  up  prosperity  and  go  back  to  that 
life." 

"  Well,  n — no  !"  answered  Mrs.  Carter,  glancing  through 
the  window  at  her  two  servants  perched  high  upon  the  car- 
riage, and  softly  pluming  herself  under  the  thought  of  all 
they  represented,  "  one  can't  quite  expect  that.  When  a  dog 
gets  his  day  he  likes  to  keep  it,  of  course.  Besides,  it's  awful 
hard  to  come  down." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Laurence,  in  her  dull,  low  tone,  "  it  is 
hard." 

"  But  this  young  lady  is  not  all  your  family  ?  My  broth- 
er spoke  of  another." 

"  That  is  Eva,"  said  Ruth,  with  animation.  "  She  is  busy 
in  the  day-time." 

"Yes,  yes! — now  I  remember:  of  course,  she  could  not 
be  here  now.  An  awful  bright  girl.  I  saw  her  once:  pret- 
t}T  as  a  pictur !  took  a  fancy  to  the  turn  of  her  head.  My  ! 
how  she  does  carry  oft'  a  shawl !  That  girl  is  what  I  call 
superb ! " 


MRS.      CARTER      MAKES      A     VISIT.  95 

"  She  is  good  ! "  said  Mrs.  Laurence,  with  hard  emphasis. 

"  Yes,  good  as  gold,  I  haven't  no  doubt,"  chimed  in  Mrs. 
Carter.  "  That  is  why  I  have  called.  '  That  girl  is  a  born 
lady,'  says  I  to  Carter,  when  we  were  making  out  a  list  of  in- 
vitations for  my  great  party,  '  and  I  am  bound  to  have  her 
come.'  So  here  is  the  invitation  !  Brought  it  myself,  because 
brother  Ross  said  a  call  was  necessary,  and  I  want  to  do 
everything  comme  ilfou!" 

Here  Mrs.  Carter  took  a  squarely-folded  envelope  from 
her  pocket,  on  which  was  a  flaming  monogram  in  red  and 
gold,  which  she  held  out  to  Mrs.  Laurence,  who  took  it  gin- 
gerly, as  if  she  feared  the  fiery  letters  would  burn  her. 

"If  this  young  lady  ever  goes  out,  I  have  another  for 
her,"  said  the  visitor,  beaming  with  satisfaction. 

"  I  never  do,"  said  Ruth,  with  a  faint  quiver  of  pain  in 
her  voice. 

"  Spine  ?  "  questioned  her  visitor. 

Ruth  bent  her  head  a  little  from  the  pillow,  and  a  look  of 
sadness  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  Don't  look  down-hearted  about  it,  my  dear  ;  you'll  soon 
get  about  again.  I  feel  sure  that  I've  got  a  receipt  for 
spine  complaint  somewhere,  and  I'll  send  it  to  you." 

Ruth  smiled  very  mournfully,  but  thanked  her. 

"It's  you,  I  suppose,  that's  beginning  to  make  picters. 
Ross  told  me  about  it,  and  I  promised  to  have  some  done  for 
my  boudoir.  Those  I  have  cost  ever-so-much,  but  he  don't 
seem  to  like  'em.  '  Something  small  and  delicate,'  he 
says ;  such  as  you  can  do  beautifully  if  I'll  only  give  j7ou 
time — which  I'm  bound  to  do." 

The  warm,  pure  blood  flashed  over  that  gentle  face,  and 
Ruth  half  rose  from  her  pillow  in  overwhelming  surprise. 

"  You  do  not  mean  it !  Did  the  gentleman  in  truth  think 
anything  of  the  little  things  I  sent  to  him.  He  asked  me, 
or  I  would  not  have  dared." 

"'Think  anything!'     Of  course  he  did;  'gems,'  he  said, 


96  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

'  they  would  be,  with  a  little  touch  in  g-up,'  which  he  meant 
to  show  }-ou  about.  Though  how  a  bit  of  canvas  can  be 
turned  into  'gems,' — which  are  rubys,  and  diamonds,  and 
such  like,  I  take  it,  beats  me.  But  that  was  what  he  said  ; 
and  where  picters  is  concerned,  Ross  aint  to  be  disputed,  let 
me  tell  you.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  him  from  turning 
half  of  my  picters  out  of  doors;  though  mercy  knows  the 
frames  alone  cost  Carter  enough  to  break  a  common  man  ; 
for  we  bought  such  as  took  up  the  most  gold,  meaning  to 
have  enough  for  our  money." 

Ruth  lay  on  her  couch  while  the  woman  was  speaking, 
lost  in  a  soft  glow  of  gratitude.  The  one  dream  of  her  life 
gave  promise  of  realization.  How  diligently  she  had 
worked  out  the  little  knowledge  of  drawing  and  color,  which 
had  been  a  part  of  her  education,  when  she  was  able  to 
stud}',  and  before  the  great  affliction  fell  upon  her.  How 
much  thought  she  had  given,  how  earnestly  she  had  toiled 
when  this  one  pursuit  became  the  passion  and  forlorn  hope  of 
her  life.  Oh,  it  was  heavenly  !  God  had  given  some  power 
even  to  her  I  Those  delicate  fingers  which  she  clasped  over 
her  bosom  in  a  sudden  rush  of  gratitude,  had  the  subtle 
craft  of  creating  beautiful  objects,  which,  in  their  turn, 
melted  into  gold.  Could  this  be  ?  Was  the  woman  yonder 
witli  all  that  flutter  of  lace  and  fringe  about  her,  a  reality? 

The  girl  lifted  herself  slowly  from  her  cushions,  and 
looked  around  the  room.  Mrs.  Laurence  had  left  it.  Some- 
thing in  the  kitchen  required  her  presence,  and  she  was 
getting  restive  under  the  infliction  of  that  kind-hearted 
woman's  conversation  ;  so  she  had  glided  out  like  a  shadow, 
scarcely  caring  whether  she  was  missed  or  not. 


THE      FIRST     BANK     NOTES.  97 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    FIRST    BANK   NOTES. 

"  She  has  gone — mother,  I  mean,"  said  Ruth,  troubled 
with  a  fear  that  their  visitor  might  be  offended. 

Mrs.  Carter  turned  her  head  with  a  little  disdainful  toss. 

"Yes,  I  see.  Not  very  good  manners;  but  to  be  ex- 
pected. 

"  Mother  is  so  much  alone,  she  sometimes  forgets." 

"  I  should  think  as  much.  But  that  is  neither  here  nor 
there.  If  old  women  choose  to  cut  up  rusty  they  are  wel- 
come, for  anything  I  care.  But  we  were  talking  about  the 
picters  for  my  boudoir.  How  long  will  it  take  you  to  paint 
em?" 

"  Then  you  were  really  in  earnest  ?  You  meant  it  ?  " 
cried  Ruth,  catching  her  breath,  and  clasping  her  hands  in 
an  ecstasy  of  delight. 

"Meant  it?  Of  course  I  did.  Ross  has  just  ripped  every 
one  of  my  picters  off  of  the  wall,  and  says  they  aint  worth 
the  frames,  which  are  lovely,  Miss;  and  I'm  sure  the  paint- 
ings were  just  as  bright  as  red,  and  green,  and  yellow  could 
make  them.  But,  hoity-toity !  my  gentleman  just  pitched 
them  into  the  coach-house;  and  I  solemnly  believe  they  are 
hung  up  in  Battle's  room  this  minute.  'Now,'  says  he,  'fill 
them  empty  frames  with  something  worth  looking  at.' 

"  But  where  are  they  coming  from  ?  "  says  I,  huffy  as 
could  be,  for  I  didn't  like  them  empty  frames  lyin'  in  a  heap 
on  the  floor.  Then  he  brought  down  two  or  three  of  the 
things, — 'rough  gems'  he  called  'em, — that  you  had  sent  to 
him,  and  put  them  in  the  frames.  I  aint  no  judge  perhaps, 
— so  don't  be  offended ! — but,  really,  now,  they  did  not  make 
half  the  show  that  tha  others  did ;  but  he  said,  there  was 
'downright  genius  in  them,'  and  I  gave  in  about  it.  So,  if 
6 


98  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

you  could  come  to  my  house, — which,  of  course,  you  cairt 
— them  four  pictera  are  all  you  would  see  in  my  boudoir, 
instead  of  them  he  had  turned  out  of  doors.  Now,  my 
dear,  how  much  am  I  to  pay  you  for  them?" 

"  How — how  much  ?     Oh,  madam,  I — I " 

Then  Ruth  put  both  hands  to  her  face,  and  burst  into  a 
passion  of  warm,  sweet  tears,  that  shook  her  slight  frame 
from  head  to  foot. 

"  Well,  now,  I  never  did,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  half  start- 
ing from  her  seat.      He  thought  you  would  be  delighted." 

"And  so  I  am — the  happiest,  happiest  creature  that  ever 
lived.     Oh,  madam,  3*011  seem  to  me  like  an  angel." 

Mrs.  Carter  lifted  her  head  and  plumed  herself  like  a 
peacock. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  pretend  to  anything  of  that  sort,  being 
just  a  trifle  stout,  and  not  given  to  flying.  But  if  you  like 
to  think  so,  and  it  makes  you  happy,  I  wont  disturb  the  idea, 
because  it  reminds  me  of  things  Carter  used  to  say  years 
and  years  ago,  when  we  first  went  to  housekeeping  in  two 
rooms,  with  a  closet  in  the  cellar  for  wood  and  coal.  Then 
—then " 

All  at  once,  even  to  her  own  astonishment,  the  woman 
broke  down,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  her  bosom  heaved 
with  sobs.  Impatient  with  herself,  she  snatched  a  handker- 
chief from  her  pocket,  and  swept  its  rich  lace  across  the  red- 
ness of  her  eyes,  and  gave  out  a  gurgling,  hysterical  laugh. 

"  I  wonder  what's  come  over  me,"  she  said,  at  last,  shak- 
ing out  her  moist  handkerchief.  "  There  is  no  telling  about 
me.  ( 'arter  .says  [  always  was  a  sensitive  cretur.  Well,  Miss 
Laurence,  we  were  speaking  about  them  pictures.  How 
much  now  ?  Ross  thought  that  twenty-live  dollars  apiece 
would  be  little  enough." 

"Twenty-five  dollars!"  exclaimed  Ruth,  and  her  large 
eyes  widened  like  thu.se  of  an  astonished  child.  "Oh,  mad- 
am you  cannot  mean  it !  " 


THE      FIRST      B  A  >'  K      NOTES.  99 

"  What !  you  don't  think  it  enough  ?  Well,  say  thirty  ; 
though  I  have  seen  pictures  twice  their  size  sell  for  less. 
Will  thirty  satisfy  you  ? :' 

"Oh,  madam,  I  know  you  are  too  kind  for  that  but  it 
seems  as  if  you  were  mocking  me.  The  amount  you  men- 
tioned first,  is  so  much  that  I  can  scarcely  believe  it." 

The  poor  girl  really  could  Dot  comprehend  her  good 
fortune;  she  trembled  all  over.  Her  great  eyes  were  bent 
on  Mrs.  Carter  with  pleading  entreaty,  that  this  cruel,  cruel 
trifling  might  cease. 

Mrs.  Carter  could  not  understand  all  this,  but  had  a 
vague  idea  that  the  price  she  offered  was  satisfactory. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  drawing  a  reticule-purse  from  her 
pocket  by  its  gold  chains,  and  taking  from  that  a  roll  of 
money,  "  if  you  are  content  with  twenty-five,  I  don't  mind 
throwing  in  a  trifle,  so  we  will  make  it  thirty.  There  it  is 
— six  twenties  ;  and  I  must  say,  it  does  me  good  to  pay  it 
over.  Just  roll  it  up,  and  buy  yourself  something  nice 
with  it.     There  !  there  ! '' 

Mrs.  Carter  came  close  to  Ruth,  and  bent  over  her  with 
the  money  fluttering  from  her  gloved  fingers.  Instead  of 
receiving  it  with  smiles,  as  the  good  woman  expected,  the 
young  creature,  half  rose  from  her  cushions,  wound  both 
arms  around  that  short  neck,  and  kissed  the  smiling  face 
with  a  passionate  outburst  of  gratitude,  which  awoke  all  the 
warm  genial  womanhood  of  Mrs  Carter's  nature  into  active 
life. 

••  Why,  why,  dear  child !  what  have  I  done,  that  you 
should  smother  me  with  kisses,  and  hold  on  to  me  as  if — 
as  if  you  were  my  own  child,  as  I  wish  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart  you  were?" 

"Oh,  madam,  you  are  so  good.  You  have  made  me  the 
happiest  creature  that  ever  lived,"   cried  Ruth. 

"  There,  there,  don't  set  me  off  again,"  said  Mrs.  Carter, 
patting  both  those    trembling    little   hands  with  her  own. 


100  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"  Does  a  little  money  make  you  so  happy?  Well,  just  at 
first,  I  remember,  it  does.  But  then  one  gets  used  to  it. 
By-and-by  3-011  won't  care.  Come,  now,  put  up  your  money, 
and  the  next  picture  will  be  worth  more.  Ross  is- going  to 
show  }-ou  how  to  touch  'em  up;  and  he  can  do  it.  if  any 
one  can,  for  he  belongs  to  some  great  pictur  academy  aci 
the  seas,  and  is  A.  number  one  at  painting." 

In  a  soft,  motherly  fashion,  Mrs.  Carter  laid  the  young 
girl  back  upon  her  couch,  and  began  smoothing  her  beau- 
tiful hair.  In  the  fulness  of  her  content,  she  answered 
back  with  broad  sympathy  the  smiles  that  came  around 
those  parted  lips,  and  the  look  of  ineffable  happiness  that 
filled  those  dove-like  eyes,  with  something  more  beautiful 
than  sunshine. 

'•  It  is  true  !  it  is  real  !  and  I  am  good  for  something  !  " 
murmured  Ruth,  holding  the  money  up  that  she  might  feast 
her  eyes  upon  it.  "  Oh,  madam  !  God  sent  you  here  !  I 
was  weak  and  helpless  :  while  others  worked,  I  could  only 
pray.  See  how  the  blessed  Lord  has  answered  me  !  I 
know  it  is  not  my  poor  little  pictures,  but  your  goodness 
that  has  done  this — my  prayers  and  your  goodness  !  " 

••  Sou  are  just  a  lovely  little  darling,  anyhow;  but  here  is 
some  one  coming.     There,  now,  we  are  ready." 

Mrs.  Carter  gathered  up  the  floating  notes,  crushed  them 

into  a  ball,  and  hid  them  under  the  pillow  of  the  couch. 

Then  she  wiped  Ruth's  eyes  with  her  cobweb  handkerchief, 

d  it  over  her  own  wet  lashes,  and  called  out,  "Come 

in  !  '*  as  a  vigorous  knuck  sounded  from  the  front  door. 


OLD      F  R  I  EN  DS?  101 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

OLD    FRIENDS. 

The  door  of  the  little  parlor  opened,  and  Mrs.  Smith 
stood  in  the  passage.  From  her  place  behind  the  counter 
she  had  seen  the  splendor  of  that  carriage  before  Mrs.  Lau- 
rence's gate,  and  could  stand  the  cravings  of  her  curiosity 
no  longer.  She  had  held  herself  as  a  sort  of  proprietor  of 
the  Laurence  family  after  that  famous  supper,  and  felt  that 
any  visitor  who  stopped  at  that  little  gate  was  a  guest  for 
herself.  At  first  she  rattier  hesitated  to  put  in  her  claim  ; 
but  when  a  half  hour,  then  an  hour  went  by,  and  that  glit- 
tering mass  of  black  and  gold  still  kept  its  place,  the  posi- 
tion became  tantalizing. 

Leaving  Boyce  behind  the  counter,  the  good  woman  tied 
on  her  best  bonnet,  flung  a  shawl  over  her  broad  shoulders, 
and  made  her  way  down  the  street,  burning  with  curiosity, 
and  just  a  little  jealous  that  so  much  distinction  had  come 
to  her  friend,  in  which  she  had  no  part.  Standing  there 
in  the  entry -way,  she  hesitated,  overpowered  by  a  first 
glance  of  the  richly-dressed  lad)'  who  seemed  to  fill  up  the 
little  parlor  with  the  splendor  of  her  presence. 

Mrs.  Carter  had  hastily  put  on  her  company  manners,  and 
sat  in  state,  fanning  herself  with  her  still  moist  handker- 
chief. 

All  at  once,  Mrs.  Smith  started  forward,  her  eyes  glisten- 
ing, and  her  shawl  floating  away  from  the  grasp  of  her 
hand. 

-  Mrs.  Carter  !     Well,  I  never  did " 

"Mrs.  Smith  !     Is  this  you?" 

For  the  moment,  both  women  were  natural.  Mrs.  Car- 
ter forgot  herself  and  her  finery  in  the  honest  delight  of 
meeting  an  old  friend.      Mrs.  Smith,  a  little  dazzled  and 


103  i  "cH  E  ,  II  E,I  C,N  I  -V  G      BELLE. 

bewildered,  came  forward  with  both  arms  held  out.  and  would 
have  embraced  her  former  crony,  but  for  a  sudden  conscious- 
ness of  the  silks,  and  laces,  and  heavy  gold  bracelets  with 
which  the  latter  was  metamorphosed.  This  brought  the 
amis  slowly  down  to  her  side,  and  left  her  lips,  from  which 
the  broad  smile  was  vanishing,  half  apart. 

Mrs.  Carter  broke  into  a  mellow  laugh,  and  held  out  both 
hands. 

"So«you  didn't  more'n  half  know  me,  Mrs.  Smith?  No 
wonder!  Sometimes  I  don't  know  myself.  But  how  do 
you  do?  How  are  the  children  and  Smith?  Is  he  stout 
and  jolly  as  ever  ?  " 

Mrs.  Smith  remembered  that  she  had  been  cutting  cheese 
jnst  before  she  left  the  grocery,  and  wiped  one  hand  on 
the  corner  of  her  shawl  before  she  gave  it  into  the  clasp  of 
those  straw-colored  gloves,  smiling  gingerly,  as  if  she  were 
afraid  of  hurting  them.  But  Mrs.  Carter  was  herself  that 
day  ;  a  breath  of  secret  human  sympathy  had  swept  the 
chaff  from  her  realty  good  heart,  and,  for  the  time,  her  mag- 
nificence was  forgotten. 

•■  Wellj  now,"  said  Mrs.  Smith,  recovering  herself  under 
this  hearty  treatment.  "It's  good  for  weak  e3'es  to  see  you 
again,  Mrs.  Carter;  I  went  around  to  the  old  house,  nigh  on 
to  a  year  ago,  and  inquired  about  you,  but  they  said  you 
had  moved  away  no  one  knew  where  ;  so  I  gave  you  up  for 
a  bad  job. 

"A  bad  job,  ha!  Well,  I  wonder  what  Carter  would 
say?  i/e  don't  think  it  a  bad  job,  you  bet !  Just  look  out 
there,  Smith,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

Mrs.  Smith  leaned  toward  the  window,  and  took  in  a  view 
of  tin-  carriage,  with  the  two  men  sitting  impatiently  in  the 
coaeh man's  sent. 

"Do  you  really  mean  that,  Mrs.  Carter?" 

"That,  and  an  open  carriage,  besides  a  couper  for  Carter, 
and  two  saddle-horses,  in  case  Carter  and  I  might  want  to 
take  lessons  and  ride  in  the  Park  together.'' 


OLD      FRIENDS.  103 

"But  how,  Mrs.  Carter,  bow?"  inquired  Mrs.  Smith, 
open-mouthed  with  wonder. 

"You  know  Carter  got  into  the  feed-business;  that  led 
him  to  hosses  and  mules,  and  sich.  Well,  the  army  wanted 
bosses;  Carter  went  in  under  contract.  Then  the  bosses 
wanted  feed,  be  went  in  under  contract  again.  Then  he 
got  into  produce,  which  kept  a  running  up  and  down,  for 
ever-so-long ;  there  he  made  and  made,  keeping  his  eye- 
teeth  sharp,  you  know." 

"  Mercy  on  me !  You  take  away  my  breath,  Mrs. 
Carter ! " 

"No  wonder;  it  took  mine  away  more  than  once.  After 
this,  he  hooked  in  with  a  clothing-house,  and  that  was  the 
best  of  all.  Eveiwthing  substantial  but  the  clothes.  Well, 
these  things  rolled  up,  and  this  is  just  what  it  has  come  to." 

Here  Mrs.  Carter  spread  her  two  hands,  and  rustled  her 
garments  with  a  jovial  laugh,  while  her  old  friend  stepped 
back  and  surveyed  her  from  head  to  foot,  with  glowing 
admiration. 

"  And  you  don't  seem  a  bit  different,"  she  broke  forth  at 
length. 

Mrs.  Carter  flushed  red,  and  drew  the  lace  shawl  about 
her  with  emphatic  protest. 

"  You  think  so,  Mrs.  Smith ;  but  others  are  of  a  different 
opinion." 

Mrs.  Smith,  for  the.  first  time,  felt  rebuffed,  and  answered, 
meekly, 

"You  were  asking  about  Smith.  He's  been  a-doing  very 
well — very  well,  indeed  ;  in  the  grocery-line,  though.  You 
can  see  our  store  from  the  front-yard  here." 

Mrs.  Carter  leaned  out  of  the  window,  and  took  a  survey 
of  her  friend's  place  of  business,  which  had  a  respectable 
show  of  prosperity. 

"  That  looks  like  living,"  she  said;  "and  I'm  right-down 
glad  of  it." 


104  THE      REIGNING      BELLB. 

"  We  live  over  the  store,  snug  and  comfortable,"  answered 
Mrs.  Smith,  highly  pleased. 

"  Children  all  alive  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Carter,  with  hesita- 
tion. 

"  Alive  and  hearty,  thank  goodness!" 

Mrs.  Carter  heaved  a  deep  sigh.  "  Smith,"  she  said,  "  I 
should  like  to  take  a  look  at  your  young  ones.  I'm  not 
used  to  seeing  children,  in  these  days,  crowding  the  doors 
by  dozens,  as  they  did  in  our  old  neighborhood,  where  Smith 

and  Carter  were  such  friends,  and  you  and  I Well, 

never  mind  about  that.  I  haven't  forgotten  it.  Wait  a 
minute,  I'm  going  home  with  you.  Good-bye,  little  girl. 
Don't  she  look  like  a  lily,  lying  there?" 

"  She's  got  a  lovely  color,"  answered  Mrs.  Smith.  "  I 
never  saw  the  like  of  it  on  her  cheek  before.  But  where  is 
Mrs.  Laurence  ?  Always  at  work?  Mrs.  Laurence,  I  say  ! 
My  friend,  Mrs.  Carter,  is  going." 

Mrs.  Laurence  came  into  the  room,  stiff  and  cold  as  mar- 
ble. The  softening  effects  of  her  illness  had  worn  off,  and 
so  had  the  little  gleam  of  sunshine,  brought  to  her  door  by 
the  kind  woman  who  was  calling  her  from  the  kitchen,  to 
which  she  had  retreated  the  moment  Mrs.  Carter  became 
interested  in  Ruth ;  thus  she  was  entirely  ignorant  of  the 
event  which  had  so  suddenly  lifted  the  invalid  into  Paradise. 

"I  had  something  to  do,"  she  said,  by  way  of  grim  apol- 
ogy, as  Mrs.  Carter  held  out  her  hand. 

"Never  mind  that!  I  know  what  it  is  to  do  my  own 
work— don't  I,  Smith?" 

"  I  should  rather  think  so,"  answered  Mrs.  Smith,  glow- 
ing with  Intense  satisfaction. 

'■  With  regard  to  the  young  lady,  of  course,  we  shall 
expect  her.  i  will  stud  the  carriage  round,  and  Ross  shall 
come  with  it.  J5e  sure  that  she  is  ready.  He  has  set  his 
heart  upon  it,  and  so  have  I." 

Mrs,    Lanrenoe    muttered    something   about   being  hard- 


MR.      BATTLES      IS      DISGUSTED.  105 

working  people,  and  quite  out  of  such  things ;  but  Ruth 
interposed,  and  made  confident  by  the  money  under  her 
pillow  lifted  her  radiant  lace,  and  said,  with  a  thrill  of 
triumph  in  her  voice, 

"  Oh,  yes,  mother,  dear !  Eva  will  go.  She  will  like  it. 
Please  do  not  refuse  till  we  have  talked  it  over." 

"  That's  right!  I  leave  it  all  with  you,  my  pretty  dar- 
ling; so^  good-day  ;  I  mean  to  call  again,  very  soon.  Come, 
Mrs.  Smith,  we'll  drive  round  the  block,  and  see  how  you 
like  it,"  said  Mrs.  Carter. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MR.     BATTLES    IS     DISGUSTED. 

Mrs.  Smith  settled  her  shawl  with  great  anxiety,  and 
going  up  to  the  little  mirror,  smoothed  out  the  bows  of  her 
bonnet-strings,  which  certainly  appeared  all  the  better  for 
it.  Then  the  two  old  friends  went  out  together,  and  the  tall 
footman  came  down  from  his  seat  with  a  thunder-cloud  on 
his  august  brow,  and  opened  the  carriage-door  with  a  pro- 
test in  every  gesture.  At  this  Mrs.  Carter  chuckled  in- 
wardly, and  gave  Mrs.  Smith  the  seat  of  honor.  She,  good 
soul,  drew  a  deep,  deep  breath,  as  her  calico-dress  came  into 
contact  with  the  bright  silken  cushions,  and  sat  bolt  up- 
right, as  if  afraid  that  their  yielding  springs  would  swallow 
her  up,  and  leave  Jerusha  Maria  an  orphan. 

"Dear  me,  how  it  gives!"  she  said,  casting  a  half  fright- 
ened look  at  her  old  friend,  who  laughed  with  glee,  and 
leaned  back  in  her  own  luxurious  corner  triumphing  greatly 
while  the  carriage  moved  on. 

The  ride  was  brief  but  glorious.  Seldom  did  a  turn-out 
of  that  description  come  within  blocks  and   blocks  of  the 


106  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

corner-grocery.  Mrs.  Smith  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  every  window,  which  hore  upon  that  point,  was  occu- 
pied when  she  came  through  the  carriage  door  and  swept 
into  her  husband's  place  of  business,  side  by  side  with  that 
gorgeously-dressed  lady. 

Boyce,  who  was  behind  the  counter,  posed  himself  at  once 
for  an  unlimited  order;  but  Mrs.  Smith  passed  him  by  with 
a  wave  of  the  hand,  and  led  the  way  up  stairs  to  her  own 
apartment,  where  Kate  Gorman  was  busy  frying  ham  for 
dinner,  and  James  Laurence  was  carrying  Jerusha  Maria 
in  his  arms,  trying  to  hush  her  into  silence,  by  bending  his 
head  and  giving  her  tiny  hands  unlimited  control  of  his 
hair,  which  was  always  a  resource  on  such  occasions. 

"  Our  last,"  said  Mrs.  Smith,  taking  the  child  into  her 
motherly  arms,  and  jerking  down  its  long  frock  with  one 
hand,  as  she  presented  the  young  lady.  Jerusha  Maria  took 
a  firm  grip  on  her  mother's  shawl,  and  being  thus  fortified 
began  staring  at  the  stranger  with  all  her  might;  finally, 
she  broke  into  a  smile,  as  a  watch,  set  thick  with  diamonds, 
went  swinging  to  and  fro  before  her  face. 

"  Give  me  a  kiss  now,  and  you  shall  hear  it  tick,"  said 
Mrs.  Carter,  gathering  the  child  to  her  own  bosom,  and 
throwing  the  watch-chain  over  its  neck,  where  it  fell  in 
glittering  links  adown  the  long  frock.  "Give  me  another; 
there  now,  take  it  in  your  teanty,  tointy  little  hands.  Smith, 
this  is  splendid  !  Such  a  weight !  Oh,  you  little  rogue,  bit- 
ing at  the  diamonds,  ha?  If  you  were  only  mine,  I'd 
feed  you  with  'em  !" 

Here  Mrs.  Carter  dropped  into  a  Boston  rocking-chair, 
and  laying  the  child's  face  close  to  her  bosom,  began  to  Bing, 
and  chirp,  and  kiss  her  into  sleepiness.  After  this  she  still 
cradled  her  lovingly  in  both  arms  and  indulging  in  a  word  of 
gossip,  now  aud  then,  with  the  mother  while  her  chair  kept 
in  motion. 

"  That  brother  of  yours — whatever  became  of  him,  Mrs. 


M  R. 


BATTLES      IS     DISGUSTED.  107 


Carter?  I  remember  how  anxious  you  and  Carter  were. 
How  did  he  turn  out  ?  "  inquired  the  mother,  when  Jerusha 
Maria  had  dropped  off.      "  Did  you  ever  hear  from  him  ?  " 

"That  brother?  Our  Ross?  Why,  Smith,  he's  back 
again,  the  most  perfect  gentleman  that  you  ever  set  eyes  on. 
You  know  I  told  you  often  how  he  was  given  to  books, 
studying  night  and  day;  how  he  painted  picters,  and 
went  into  the  country,  every  year,  making  sketches,  as  he 
called  it.  Never  was  worth  a  cent  for  business  ;  but  so  hand- 
some, and  so  wonderfully  good  !  Well,  he  went  off  as  you 
know,  and,  somehow  or  another,  got  beyond  seas,  where 
they  think  more  of  picters  than  we  do,  and  made  a  wonder- 
fully great  man  of  him;  though  not  under  the  old  name. 
He  took  out  a  nom-de-something,  as  such  people  do,  now  and 
then,  and  left  off  the  last  end  of  his  name.  So,  instead  of 
Herman  Ross  Baker,  we  call  him  Herman  Ross,  which  cuts 
him  loose  from  the  old  poverty-stricken  life,  for  that  makes 
him  shudder  when  you  mention  it." 

"  Proud,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"No;  that  isn't  it.  He's  the  last  mau  on  earth  to  be 
ashamed  of  honest  poverty.  We  are  none  of  us  mean 
enough  for  that,  high  as  we  hold  our  heads  among  rich  peo- 
ple. But  there  is  something  that  1  don't  quite  understand 
about  Ross." 

"A  love-secret,  I  should  not  wonder!"  said  Mrs.  Smith. 

Before  Mrs.  Carter  could  answer  that,  Kate  Gorman  put 
her  head  into  the  room. 

"Dinner's  ready,  and  Mr.  Smith  not  home  yet." 

Mrs.  Smith  arose  blushing  and  embarrassed. 

"Only  ham  and  eggs,"  she  said;  "but  would  you,  just 
for  the  sake  of  old  times " 

"Would  I?"  cried  Mrs.  Carter,  huddling  the  baby  into 
it's  cradle,  and  taking  off  her  gloves. 

"  Won't  I  ?  " 


108  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

CHAPTER  XX. 

OVER     THEIR     TEA. 

Kate  Gorman  had  received  a  hint  from  her  mistress  and 
drawn  the  table  out  from  against  the  wall,  a  trouble  she  sel- 
dom undertook  merely  for  the  household.  She  also  spread 
a  clean  damask  table-cloth  over  it,  and  gave  her  knives  an 
extra  scour  before  she  put  them  on  the  table.  Then  she 
took  particular  pains  with  the  ham,  and  left  a  fried  egg 
upon  the  top  of  each  slice,  with  the  unbroken  yolk  gleam- 
ing like  a  ball  of  gold  in  the  centre  of  the  white,  which 
was  beautifully  browned  on  the  edges. 

To  these  dainties  she  added  a  glass  dish  full  of  quince 
preserves,  and  some  nice  green  pickles,  that  contrasted  gor- 
geously with  the  gold  of  the  egg  and  the  red  of  the  ham, 
when  thej'  got  on  the  same  plate  together. 

''Now  this  is  something  like,'"'  said  Mrs.  Carter,  pulling 
off  her  canarj'-colored  gloves  with  a  succession  of  little 
jerks,  and  seating  herself  at  the  table.  "I  haven't  set 
down  to  such  a  dinner  in  years.  The  very  sight  of  it  is 
enough  to  warm  one's  heart." 

"Oh,"  answered  Mrs.  Smith,  "if  I  had  only  known  you 
were  coming?  but  it  is  only  a  tea  dinner.  I  feel  quite 
ashamed,  and  turkeys  hanging  in  rows  down  stairs,  with 
cranberries  by  the  bushel." 

"Oh,  mercy  on  me!  don't  think  of  it, — turkeys  indeed! 
I  can  get  them  every  day  of  my  life  ;  but  a  bit  of  ham  like 
this,  1  shouldn't  dare  to  ask  my  cook  for  it.  She'd  sing  out 
Bhoddy,  ami  quit  the  kitchen  in  less  than  no  time."' 

"Then  you  really  like  it?" 

"Really  like  it?  I  should  think  so,"  answered  Mrs. 
Carter,  feeling  like  a  truant  school  girl  as  she  balanced  a 
fragment  of  egg  on  the  point  of  her  knife,  and  gloried  iu 


OVER     THEIR     TEA.  109 

the  vulgarity  from  the  depths  of  her  soul.  "  If  you  only 
knew,  Smith,  what  a  comfort  it  is  to  eat  just  as  you  please, 
and  just  what  you  please." 

"But  don't  you?'*'  questioned  the  hostess,  holding  her 
own  loaded  knife  half  way  to  her  mouth,  and  opening  her 
eyes  wide. 

"Dear  no!  Why,  Mrs.  Smith,  I  should  just  as  soon 
thiuk  of  jumping  out  of  the  window,  as  to  ask  for  a  plate 
of  corned  beef  and  cabbage  in  m)r  owu  house ! " 

"  Dear  me,  you  don't  say  so  ?  " 

"The  truth  is,  you're  expected  to  eat  things  that  you 
don't  know  the  name  of,  and  turn  against  when  you  do. 
There  is  path'  de  for  grow,  now." 

"Patty  what?"  questioned  Mrs.  Smith. 

"  De  for  grow!''"  answered  Mrs.  Carter,  with  emphasis. 

Mrs.  Smith  shook  her  head. 

"Never  heard  the  name  before.  One  of  your  upper 
crust  friends,  I  suppose,"  she  said,  in  a  bewildered  way. 

"No,  no,  its  only  the  livers  of  over-crammed  geese;  but 
if  you  were  to  ask  for  gooseliver,  the  waiters  would  just 
laugh  in  your  face.  They've  done  it,  Mrs.  Smith,  done  it 
to  me  and  Carter,  too  !  " 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mrs.  Smith,  in  deep  sympathy,  "  I 
wouldn't  have  believed  it." 

"  Oh  !  my  dear,  I  sometimes  think  that  Carter  and  I 
enjoyed  ourselves  more  when  we  first  started  life,  then  we 
ever  shall  again — but,  dear  me,  is  that  some  one  coming?" 

"  Only  Smith.     Of  course  you  won't  mind  him  ?" 

"Not  at  all.  Just  another  slice  of  the  ham,  its  perfectly 
delicious." 

It  was  Mr.  Smith  who  had  come  up  stairs  and  stopped  in 
the  kitchen  to  wash  his  hands,  which  he  did  twice  when 
Kate  Gorman  told  him  of  the  guest  inside.  In  fact,  he 
stepped  into  a  closet  and  put  on  a  clean  collar  and  a  pair  of 
cuffs,  which  Kate  buttoned  for  him — first  wiping  her  hands 


110  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

on  the  dish  towel  and  afterward  on  her  own  apron,  in  a  sud- 
den paroxysm  of  neatness. 

"There,"  said  the  handmaiden,  "yer  fit  to  ^tand  afore 
the  Queen;  so  just  go  in  and  take  yer  bit  of  dinner  like  a 
gentleman,  as  }'e  are  intirely." 

Smith  took  courage  from  this  encomium,  and  entered  the 
next  room  fresh  as  cold  water  could  make  him,  and  shed- 
ding around  a  wholesome  flavor  of  yellow  soap. 

Mrs.  Carter  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  met  her  old  neighbor 
half  way.  "Why,  Smith,  is  this  you?  Didn't  expect  to 
see  me?" 

"Well,  whether  or  know,  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  How's 
Carter  ?  " 

Mrs.  Carter  winced  a  little  when  her  husband's  name  was 
thus  mentioned  shorn  of  its  appendages;  but  she  answered 
cheerfully,  and,  seating  herself  at  the  table  with  a  flutter 
of  lace  and  rustle  of  silks,  commenced  on  her  fresh  relay 
of  ham  with  renewed  appetite. 

"Now,  Smith,  this  is  what  I  call  sociable,"  she  said, 
looking  around  for  a  napkin;  but  not  finding  one,  she  used 
her  lace  handkerchief  instead.  "Your  wife  and  I  have 
been  a-talking  over  old  times;  now  its  your  turn.-' 

Smith  looked  at  the  glittering  silk  of  her  dress,  and  heard 
the  tinkle  of  her  gold  chains  and  bracelets  with  something 
like  dismay.  He  was  beginning  to  think  the  clean  mil's 
and  collar  insufficient,  and  wished  from  the  depths  of  his 
heart  that  he  had  put  on  his  besl  coat. 

"Lovely  weather,  isn't  it?"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  feeling  a 
little  innocent  triumph  in  her  old  friend's  confusion,  but 
compassionating  it  all  the  time. 

"I — I  don't  know — that  is,  it  seemed  to  me  this  morning 
that  there  was  a  slight  indication  of  a  storm,"'  answered 
Smith,  bringing  out  his  very  best  language,  in  lieu  of  the 
coat. 

Airs.  Carter  accepted  the  long  word  as  a  compliment   to 


A     SLIGHT      ALTERCATION.  Ill 

her  improved  condition,  and  gently  plumed  herself  upon  it 
She  would  gladly  have  matched  his  elegance  with  corres- 
ponding erudition,  but  failed  to  catch  the  inspiration,  and 
only  said, 

"Indeed!  well,  I  rather  thought  so  myself." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A    SLIGHT    ALTERCATION. 

"My  dear,"  said  Smith,  looking  around  the  table  as  if 
he  missed  something,  "have  you  nothing  better  than  water 
to  offer  Mrs.  Carter,  and  this  the  first  time  she  has  hon- 
ored us?  " 

Mrs.  Smith  looked  around  in  some  bewilderment,  then 
answered  with  a  deprecatory  glance  at  her  friend. 

"The  kettle  was  just  boiling,  and  its  likely  that  Kate 
Gorman  is  drawing  the  tea  now — Oolong  of  the  very  best. 
Smith,  you  do  not  suppose  I  should  offer  Mrs.  Carter  any- 
thing less?" 

"Champagne,"  answered  Smith,  throwing  out  his  chest 
with  a  swell  of  hospitable  importance,  "on  ice  and  plenty 
of  it.  I'm  astonished  at  you,  Mrs.  Smith  ;  that  you  did  not 
think  of  it." 

"But  I — I  didn't  think;  I  didn't  know  as  you'd  like  us 
to  break  iuto  a  basket,"  cried  Mrs.  Smith,  so  eager  to  ex- 
culpate herself,  that  she  grew  red  in  the  face. 

"As  if  we  didn't  break  into  baskets  every  day  of  our 
lives,"  answered  the  grocer,  looking  severely  at  his  wife. 
Then  turning  toward  his  guest,  he  observed  that  Mrs. 
Smith,  he  was  sorry  to  say,  didn't  meet  prosperity  with 
the  air  and  grace  that  must  make  his  friend  Carter  proud 
of  the  wife  he  had  married,  who  seemed  capable  of  filling 
any  position. 


112  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

"  01),  Smith  !  "  pleaded  the  hostess,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
"sometimes  I  think  you  don't  care  how  much  you  hurt  my 
feeiings  I" 

"But  he  don't  mean  it,"  interposed  Mrs.  Carter,  "it's 
all  because  he  wants  to  he  hospitable."  Here  the  good 
woman  drew  a  deep  breath  and  flushed  happily,  feeling 
that  she  had  at  last  matched  her  host  in  elaborate  English. 
"But  there  is  no  need  of  it.  I'm  just  sick  and  tired  of 
champagne.  A  good  cup  of  tea  is  worth  a  dozen  bottles, 
and  here  it  comes  steaming  hot." 

"In  that  Britannia  tea-pot,  too,"  muttered  Smith,  "as  if 
we  had  no  silver  in  the  house!" 

"  I'm  sure  the  spoons  are  all  here,  they  were  counted  only 
this  morning." 

Smith,  for  secret  reasons  of  his  own,  did  not  press  the 
question  of  silver,  and  a  cry  from  the  next  room  saved  him 
from  the  necessity. 

"That  child  shrieking  like  mad  again — upon  my  word, 
Mrs.  Smith,  we  must  discharge  the  nurse.  She  is  really 
incompus — that  is,  incomp " 

Fortunately  for  the  grocer,  who  never  could  have  fought 
his  way  through  the  word  he  was  toiling  at,  Jerusha  Maria 
renewed  her  shrieks  with  appalling  vigor,  and  Mrs.  Smith 
rushed  into  the  next  room. 

James  had  been  doing  his  best  to  appease  the  infant's 
wrath,  which  had  been  kindled  by  his  persistent  refusal  to 
let  her  run  her  hand  into  the  round  holes  which  Kate  Gor- 
man had  left  open  in  the  stove,  when  she  took  the  tea  ket- 
tle off. 

A  dive  into  the  red  hot  coals  underneath  had  been  ruth- 
lessly frustrated;  hence  the  shrieks  of  rage  which  had 
brought  the  mother  into  the  midst  of  the  fray.  Goaded 
out  of  her  usual  good-temper  before,  she  flamed  up  furiously 
now,  snatching  the  young  lady  from  the  hold  James  was 
striving  desperately  to  keep  upon  her.  Mrs.  Smith  turned 
upon  him. 


A    SLIGHT     ALTERCATION.  113 

"Do  you  want  to  kill  the  child  before  my  eyes?"  she 
demanded,  pulling  down  Jerusha  Maria's  frock  with  a  jerk, 
"as  if  I  hadn't  trouble  enough  without  you  setting  in!" 

Before  the  lad  could  answer,  or  attempt  to  defend  him- 
self, Mrs.  Smith  sailed  out  of  the  room,  smothering  the 
child's  wrath  by  a  fiercer  embrace  than  she  was  conscious  of. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  cried  Mrs.  Carter,  dropping  her 
knife  and  fork,  "poor  little  dai'ling !  who  has  been 'busing 
it?" 

Mr.  Smith  was  rather  disturbed  by  the  cloud  on  his  wife's 
face,  and  held  out  his  arms  in  an  abject,  deprecating  way; 
but  the  indignant  woman  turned  her  back  upon  him,  and 
took  her  own  chair,  with  majestic  wrath. 

"No,  Mr.  Smith,  I'm  not  that  helpless  that  I  can't  take 
care  of  my  own  child." 

"But  the  tea.     I  thought  you  might " 

Here  Mrs.  Smith  broke  off  the  speech  over  which  her 
husband  faltered. 

"No  I  mightn't;  it  won't  be  the  first  time  I've  poured 
out  tea  with  a  baby  in  my  arms ! " 

"  And  a  nice  picter  she  makes,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  "  my 
brother  never  sees  a  woman  holding  a  baby  like  that  but 
he  calls  her  a  madonner  at  once.  I  only  wish  he  could  see 
her." 

"  I  wish  he  could — only  when  she's  a  trifle  more  like 
herself,"  muttered  Smith. 

Mrs.  Smith  did  not  hear  this  cautious  aside,  but  holding 
Jerusha  Maria  on  her  left  arm,  poured  out  the  tea  with  her 
right  hand,  holding  the  Brittannia  pot  high  up,  and  doing 
the  honors  with  a  dash.  Smith  took  this  as  defiance,  and 
withered  under  it. 

"Dear  me,  what  is  that?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carter,  listen- 
ing to  a  sound  of  suppressed  sobs  that  came  from  the  next 
room.     "Somebody  crying,  I  do  believe." 

Mrs.  Smith  suspended  the  amber  stream  that  was  dash- 
7 


114  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

ing  into  one  of  her  best  china  cups,  and  listened.  Sure 
enough,  suppressed  sobs  broke  from  the  other  room,  that 
smote  her  to  the  heart.  She  sat  down  the  tea-pot,  gathered 
up  Jerusha  Maria,  and  went  into  the  kitchen.  There  she 
found  James  Laurence  sitting  on  a  chair,  with  both  arms 
flung  out  on  the  table,  trying  his  very  best  to  smother  the 
sound  of  his  own  uncontrollable  mortification  and  grief. 

"Why  !  James,  my  boy  ;  what  are  you  crying  about  ?" 

The  lad  lifted  up  his  head,  and  hurriedly  wiped  the  tears 
from  his  eyes. 

"I — I  wasn't  crying  much  !"  he  answered,  choking  back 
his  tears  bravely.  "  Only — only  I  try  so  hard  to  do  every- 
thing!" 

"  I  know  you  do.  There  never  was  a  better  boy.  Jeru- 
sha Maria,  the  little  darling,  is  aggravating  sometimes. 
What  did  she  want  then?" 

"  Only  to  put  her  two  hands  into  the  fire." 

"You  little  tyke!"  exclaimed  the  mother,  giving  a  slight 
shake  and  then  an  appeasing  kiss  to  the  child  in  her  arms, 
"  and  I  was  cross  as  fury  because  he  wouldn't  let  her  do  it. 
There,  there,  James;  never  mind  what  I  said.  Of  course 
I  didn't  mean  it.  You  haven't  a  better  friend  in  the  world 
than  I  am." 

"I  know  that,  how  can  I  forget  it?  nothing  else  could 
have  brought  me  down  to  crying  like  a  baby.  The  first 
cross  word  brought  all  your  goodness  to  me,  and  our  people 
right  before  me,  and  I  felt  like — like  a  wretch." 

"A  wretch  !  you  are  nothing  of  the  kind,  Jimmy.  Don't 
think  that  of  yourself — and  I  haven't  been  good  to  }Tou  a 
bit  more  than  you  deserve.  Here,  now,  take  Jerusha  Maria. 
She  wants  to  kiss  you  dreadfully.  If  she  wants  to  put  her 
hands  in  the  fire,  you  may — 3Tes,  just  on  this  occasion,  I 
think  you  may  shake  her  a  little — not  enough  to  make  her 
teeth  chatter,  though,  because  you  see  they  are  new  and 
tender  yet." 


THE     FIRST     FRUITS      OF      GENIUS.        115 

"I  thought  you  would  never  trust  her  with  me  again," 
said  James,  holding  out  his  arms  and  smiling,  though  his 
thick  eyelashes  were  still  wet. 

"  Trust  her  with  you  !  there,  what  does  that  seem  like  ?" 
cried  Mrs.  Smith,  putting  the  child  into  those  outstretched 
arms,  and  patting  both  boy  and  child  into  harmony,  while 
her  own  angry  passions  gave  place  to  a  tender  sort  of 
penitence,  which  extended  even  to  Smith. 

"  Now,  James,  take  good  care  of  her  while  I  go  in  and 
pour  out  the  tea,  for  I'm  afraid  its  getting  cold." 

She  did  go  in,  beaming  between  tears  and  smiles,  like  an 
April  morning;  and  performed  the  honors  of  her  table  beau- 
tifully, putting  two  lumps  of  sugar  in  her  husband's  cup 
with  a  shy  look  of  concession,  which  did  more  to  brighten 
his  face  than  the  best  bar  soap  had  done. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    FIRST    FRUITS     OF    GENIUS. 

Ruth  Laurence  kept  her  secret.  An  idea  had  entered 
her  head  which  she  was  resolved  to  carry  out,  unaided  and 
alone.  At  first  she  longed  to  tell  her  good  fortune  to  her 
mother ;  but  Mrs.  Laurence  was  never  sympathetic  or  im- 
pulsive enough  to  win  that  loving  confidence  which  Ruth 
longed  to  give.  She  had  thought  her  own  thoughts,  and 
suppressed  her  natural  impulses  so  long,  that  this  precious 
secret  became  as  gold  to  a  miser,  after  she  had  dwelt  upon 
it,  unspoken  for  a  few  hours. 

One  thing  was  certain  :  Eva  should  go  to  this  party 
dressed  like  the  lady  she  was.  Enough  of  the  money  under 
her  pillow  should  be  used  for  that.  Her  own  frail  fingers 
had  earned  this  great  happiness  for  her  sister. 


11G  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

Tears  came  into  those  soft  eyes  as  Ruth  thought  of  it : 
tender,  sweet  tears,  such  as  the  good  and  unselfish  alone  can 
slu-d.  She  murmured  to  herself:  "  Yes,  it  shall  be  snow- 
white,  and  fleecy  as  foam.  I  have  the  idea  ill  my  mind, 
with  a  contrast — something  brilliant  and  rich.  Still,  she 
does  not  need  that  to  make  her  the  most  beautiful  of  them 
all.  Dear  Eva  !  what  a  surprise  it  will  be  !  Here  she  comes, 
looking  50  tired  !  " 

Eva  came  into  the  little  parlor  weary  and  sad ;  for  the 
duties  of  her  position  were  frequently  galling  to  the  pride 
of  a  high-spirited  girl ;  and  every  hour  some  painful  con- 
trast was  forced  upon  her  which  disturbed  her  sense  of 
justice.  While  the  family  had  been  in  absolute  want,  this 
feeling  was  held  in  abeyance  by  all  those  active  sympathies 
that  trample  down  minor  causes  of  grief  under  great  afflic- 
tions, but  now  the  proud  nature  of  the  girl  asserted  itself, 
and  strongly  cynical  and  bitter  feelings  were  rooting  them- 
selves in  her  young  heart. 

Eva  took  off  her  bonnet,  and,  kneeling  down  by  her 
sister's  couch,  kissed  her  tenderly. 

"  Why,  Ruthy,  how  warm  your  cheek  is  !  How  your 
arms  cling  to  me!  Wha.  is  the  matter?  It  seems  like  joy 
— but  how  can  that  come  here  ?  " 

"A  pleasant  thing  has  happened,  Eva,  dear.  You  are 
invited  to  a  splendid  party  in  the  Fifth  Avenue.  Look 
here ! " 

Eva  caught  her  breath.  An  invitation  to  her  !  She  took 
the  s-quare  fold  of  paper,  and,  dazzled  by  the  monogram, 
began  to  examine  it  with  that  nervous  curiosity  which 
makes  so  many  people  hesitate  to  learn  the  truth  at  once. 

"It  is  from  Mrs.  Carter,  the  sister  of  that  gentleman  who 
looked  over  my  drawings.  Such  a  cheerful,  kind  woman  ! 
She  brought  it  herself,  that  there  might  be  no  mistake,  and 
■will  send  her  OWIl  carriage  for  you.      Isn't  it  delightful 

"Oh,  how  I  wish  it  possible!"  exclaimed  Eva,  dropping 


THE      FIRST      FRUITS      OF      GENIUS.        117 

the  invitation  from  her  hand  with  a  pang  of  absolute 
despair.  ';  That  is  what  so  many  people  were  talking 
about :  all  the  customers  were  full  of  it.  I  think  Mr. 
Harold  has  an  invitation.  But  it  is  of  no  use;  I  wish  she 
had  not  brought  it." 

"  Ob,  Eva  !  " 

"It  is  just  cruel,"  answered  the  girl,  throwing  herself 
into  a  chair,  and  clasping  both  hands  over  her  eyes  to  hide 
her  tears. 

"  But  you  are  going,  Eva.     I  promised  it." 

"  You  promised  !  poor  darling  !  " 

"  I  did,  indeed.  So  just  wipe  your  eyes,  and  let  me  tell 
you  something.  Look  here !  Hush,  now !  do  not  cry 
out ! " 

Here  Ruth  took  a  twenty-dollar  note  from  under  her 
pillow,  and  held  it  up  before  Eva's  eyes. 

"  Ruth,  Ruth,  where  did  you  get  that  ?  "  cried  the  girl, 
in  utter  amazement. 

"Oh,  i"  have  been  doing  bits  of  work  for  it  on  the  sly. 
Eva!  Eva!  I  won't  keep  anything  from  you.  Look  here  ! 
and  here  !  I  have  earned  it  all  with  my  pictures,  that  you 
thought  so  pretty.  This  is  for  you.  Stoop  down,  and  let 
me  whisper  what  I  mean  to  do  with  the  rest." 

Eva  stooped  down,  and  lifted  her  head  again,  all  in  a  glow 
of  delight. 

"  Oh,  Ruthy !  it  seems  like  fairy-work  !  You  have  taken 
away  my  breath  !  " 

"  They  will  take  more  ;  and  that  gentleman  will  teach  me 
how  to  give  them  greater  perfection.  You  see  it  is  no 
dream,  sister ! " 

"And  it  was  your  genius  that  got  me  this  invitation, 
Ruth,"  said  Eva,  with  grateful  enthusiasm.  "  I  could  not 
understand  it  before.  It  seems  almost  possible  that  I  may 
go!" 

"  Almost !     It  is  quite  possible  !     I  have  been  lying  here, 


118  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

with  my  eyes  on  the  ceiling,  thinking  over  the  dress.  It 
must  be  lovely,  you  know,  but  not  cost  more  than  this  one 
bill.  White  tailetan,  I  should  say,  with  a  long  train,  a 
flounce  or  two,  and  rows  on  rows  of  broad,  puffy,  ruches. 
Crimson  roses  in  your  hair,  and  a  little  cluster  on  your 
bosom.  No  !  it  shall  be  one,  fragrant  and  half  blown,  on 
the  left  shoulder.     ~No  other  ornaments." 

"  Of  course  not,  you  foolish  darling !  How  am  I  to  get 
them  ?  " 

"  JSot  a  thing! — just  the  white  and  red.  To  think  of  it 
is  like  painting  a  picture.  I  can  see  you  now,  with  your 
black  hair  falling  in  broad,  heavy  braids  nearly  to  the 
shoulders  ;  two  or  three  long  ringlets  sweeping  almost  to  the 
waist;  just  a  little  coronal  of  red  roses  over  the  forehead; 
and  the  dress  sweeping  away,  fold  after  fold,  like  dancing 
white  poppies  over  drifting  snow.  I  tell  you,  Eva,  it  will 
be  superb." 

"  But  how  is  all  this  to  be  done,  Ruth  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  bolstered  up,  and  sew  on  it  in  the  daytime. 
You  will  help  me  at  night.  1  tell  you,  dear,  it  will  be 
charming." 

"  And  you,  poor  dear,  will  be  left  at  home,  and  see  noth- 
ing." 

"  What,  I !  Indeed,  you  know  nothing  about  it.  I  shall 
just  lie  here,  with  my  hands  folded,  so,  and  my  eyes  shut, 
thinking  over  everything  as  it  happens.  The  way  people 
will  look  at  you,  and  whisper,  'Who  is  that?  Isn't  she — ' 
But  I  won't  tell  you  all  that  I  shall  see.  Be  sure  you  will 
not  enjoy  it  more  than  I  shall.  Then  there  is  James  ! — 
won't  it  delight  him  ?  " 

u  But  mother!  what  if  she  forbids  it?"  said  Eva,  with 
sudden  dismay.     "  She  might,  you  know." 

"  We  must  get  Mrs.  Smith  on  our  side,"  said  Ruth,  falter- 
ing a  little.  "  Mrs.  Smith,  and  our  James.  She  cannot 
stand  out  against  them.     But  hush  !  she  is  at  the  door." 


THE     HIDDEN      PACKAGE.  119 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE   HIDDEN    PACKAGE. 

Herman  Ross  became  a  constant  visitor  at  the  Laurence 
cottage  after  his  sister  had  called  there.  Sometimes  he 
spent  hours  together  in  the  little  parlor,  instructing  Ruth  in 
her  art,  and  fairly  opening  a  new  world  to  the  genius  that 
burned  within  her.  With  all  her  practice  she  had  gone 
astray  in  many  things,  and  struggled  for  hours  to  produce 
an  effect  which  he  taught  her  to  accomplish  with  a  few  dex- 
terous touches  of  the  pencil.  His  patience  seemed  inex- 
haustible ;  his  kindness  brought  tears  into  her  e}Tes  when- 
ever she  thought  of  it.  In  a  few  days  she  had  learned 
more  than  blind,  unaided  practice  had  done  for  her  in  years. 

Sometimes  Ross  saw  Eva,  but  not  often,  for  she  came 
home  from  her  duties  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  his  visits 
seldom  lasted  till  then  ;  but  he  spoke  of  her  frequently,  and 
sometimes  questioned  Ruth  about  her,  in  a  cautious  way,  as 
if  the  mention  of  her  name  brought  some  mental  disturb- 
ance with  it. 

"What,  Eva  older  than  I  am  ?  Dear,  no! — far  from  it! 
I  am  nearly  four  years  the  elder,"  she  said,  one  day,  in 
answer  to  his  question.  "  It  is  because  she  is  so  tall  and 
well-formed  that  you  think  so  ;  but  she  is  only  nineteen, 
this  month,  while  I  am  twenty-two." 

"  Only  nineteen  !     Just  nineteen  ?  " 

"  Just  nineteen,  this  month  !" 

"  Tell  me.  Can  you  remember  when  she  was  born  ?  " 
inquired  Ross,  more  quickly  than  he  usually  spoke. 

"  I  can  remember  when  she  was  a  baby ;  the  very  first 
time  I  saw  her  was  in  father's  arms,  coming  through  that 
door." 

"  And  you  remember  nothing  before  that  ?  " 


120  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"  No  !     How  should  I  ?  " 

"Nothing  whatever — no  disturbance  in  the  house;  no — " 

u  Oh,  yes !  I  remember  very  well  how  surprised  mother 
seemed,  and  how  she  scolded  about  something.  I  suppose 
it  was  because  father  took  the  baby  out." 

ri  Strange  !  "  muttered  Ross. 

That  moment  Mrs.  Laurence  came  into  the  room. 

"  You  here,  Mr.  Ross  ? "  she  said,  in  her  cold,  half- 
indifferent  fashion. 

"  Yes,  madam.  As  an  old  friend  of  your  husband's,  I 
have  taken  the  liberty  of  coming  often,  hoping  to  benefit  his 
child  a  little." 

Mrs.  Laurence  looked  at  him,  keenly.  She  was  naturally 
a  suspicious  woman,  and  intimate  association  with  a  person 
connected  with  the  police  had  not  improved  her  faith  in 
human  nature.  She  had  seen  this  man  regarding  Eva  with 
looks  that  troubled  her,  and  naturally  supposed  that  his  ex- 
treme kindness  to  Ruth  had  some  reference  to  the  more 
beautiful  daughter. 

u  Mr.  Ross/'"  she  said,  with  curt  honesty,  "I  don't  remem- 
ber my  husband  having  a  friend  in  the  world  that  I  didn't 
know  something  about ;  but  so  far  as  I  can  remember,  he 
never  mentioned  the  name  of  Ross  to  me  in  his  life." 

"  The  name  of  Ross  !  "  cried  the  man,  half  starting  from 
his  chair.  u  No  wonder!  what  an  idiot  I  was  to  forget  ! 
But  it  is  so  long  since  I  have  known  my  other  name.  My 
dear  madam,  have  you  never  heard  your  husband  speak  of 
Herman  Ross  Baker?" 

This  name  seemed  to  strike  Mrs.  Laurence  dumb.  She 
stood  for  half  a  minute,  gazing  at  the  man,  as  if  a  ghost  had 
started  up  before  her.  The  little  color  natural  to  her  face 
died  out.     Even  her  lips  grew  white. 

''Herman  Ross  Baker,"  she  repeated.  "And  are  you 
that  man?" 

"  That  is  my  name,  Mrs.  Laurence  ;   and  the  only  one 


THE      HIDDEN     PACKAGE.  121 

your  husband  ever  knew  me  by.  I  am  an  artist,  and  in  other 
countries  chose  to  call  myself  Ross,  leaving  the  rest  of  the 
name  so  long  out  of  use  that  I  almost  forget  it  myself. 
Now,  I  hope  that  we  are  not  altogether  strangers,  by  name 
at  least." 

Mrs.  Laurence  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  clasped  both 
hands  in  her  lap. 

"  So,  you  are  that  man  !  " 

There  was  a  look  of  absolute  terror  in  the  woman's  face. 
She  sat  staring  at  Eoss,  with  weird  curiosity,  as  if  he  had 
been  a  ghost. 

"I  never  thought  you  would  come — never  wanted  you  to 
come,"  she  said,  at  last,  wringing  her  hands  with  a  show  of 
passion  of  which  her  countenance,  in  its  set  expression 
gave  little  sign  ;  "  but  when  the  dead  order,  the  living 
have  only  to  obey.  That  which  he  left  must  be  given, 
though  it  breaks  us  all  up  and  turns  the  house  into  a 
tomb." 

The  woman,  rose  from  her  seat,  and  began  to  walk  the 
floor,  while  Ross  and  her  daughter  sat  regarding  these 
movements  with  intense  surprise. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  mother — of  what  are  you  speaking  ? 
Mr.  Ross  cannot  understand,"  said  Ruth,  arising  with  pain 
from  her  cushions. 

Mrs.  Laurence  paused  in  her  walk,  and  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment gazing  dumbly  on  the  sweet,  pale  face  turned  so  anx- 
iously upon  her.  Then  she  resumed  action  again,  and  paced 
back  and  forth,  as  before,  muttering  to  herself.  At  last,  she 
came  up  to  the  couch,  and  laying  her  hand  on  Ruth's  shoul- 
der, bade  her  sit  up  a  little,  while  she  searched  for  some- 
thing that  must  be  found. 

Ruth  left  the  couch,  and  sank  into  a  Boston  rocking-chair, 
which  Mr.  Ross  drew  forward  for  her  use. 

Then  Mrs.  Laurence  flung  the  cushions  to  the  floor,  and 
bringing  a  pair  of  scissors  from  a  work-basket,  began  to  rip 


122  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

the  mattress,  at  one  end,  and  thrusting  her  hand  into  the 
opening,  she  drew  forth  a  sealed  envelope. 

"  That  is  the  name,"  she  said,  reading  the  address  over. 
u  Herman  Ross  Baker.  My  husband  did  know  you.  When 
he  wrote  this  I  was  told  to  give  it  into  your  hands,  and  no 
other,  should  you  come  back  to  this  country,  after  he  was 
dead,  which  I  am  sure  he  did  not  expect.  Take  it,  sir  ; 
and  remember  he  was  kind  to  you  and  yours." 

Ross  took  the  package,  and  looked  wistfully  at  the  writ- 
ing. He  was  evidently  taken  by  surprise,  and  his  hand 
shook  with  the  intense  desire  that  possessed  him  to  tear 
the  envelope  and  seize  upon  its  secret  at  once. 

"  Not  here  !  Read  it  at  home  !  "  said  Mrs.  Laurence,  who 
saw  his  hands  tremble  with  eagerness.  "  It  may  be  a  thing 
to  read  alone,  with  fasting  and  prayer.  Who  knows? 
Take  it  away,  and  remember  how  true  he  was — how  good. 
Ruth,  you  are  growing  pale  ;  let  me  lift  you  back  to  the 
couch.  No,  sir ;  it  is  not  needed — one  is  enough.  There, 
now  ;  don't  be  troubled,  child.  No  need  of  that !  You  see 
how  weak  she  is,  Mr.  Ross;  so  have  some  compassion  on  us 
all.     You  will  understand  me,  by-and-by." 

"If  compassion  could  make  you  happy,  there  would  be 
no  sorrow  under  this  roof,"  answered  Ross,  with  a  ringing 
sweetness  in  his  voice,  that  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of 
Ruth  Laurence.  "  God  knows,  I  will  never  bring  trouble 
here." 

Ruth  reached  out  her  hand.  "  You  have  brought  no- 
thing but  good  to  us,"  she  said,  gently.  "We  all  know 
that." 

Ross  took  the  pale,  little  hand  in  his,  dropped  it  softly  to 
the  couch  again,  and  took  his  leave,  with  the  feeling  of  a 
man  who  carries  destiny  in  his  hand. 

A  -hort  walk  brought  Ross  to  his  sister's  dwelling.  He 
entered  the  front  door,  strode  across  the  tesselated  hall,  and 
mounting  the  stairs,  carpeted  so  thickly  that  his  footsteps 


WHICH      RIVER. 


123 


seemed  smothered  in  wood-moss,  entered  a  chamber  in  the 
topmost  story,  which  had  been  fitted  up  as  a  studio.  With 
a  hand  that  still  quivered  with  emotion,  he  bolted  the 
door,  and  sat  down,  with  the  envelope  in  his  hand,  over- 
come with  that  strange  dread  which  an  unbroken  seal  often 
brings  upon  the  possessor.  Eager  as  his  curiosity  had  been, 
he  was  literally  afraid  to  break  the  seal.  What  did  it  lock 
in  ?  Why  should  the  man,  so  long  dead,  write  to  him  ?  Was 
the  vague,  wild  idea,  which  had  haunted  him  for  weeks,  a 
reality? 

With  these  questions  in  his  brain,  he  tore  the  envelope, 
took  from  it  some  closely-written  pages,  and  began  to  read. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

WHICH    RIVER. 

"My  Eriexd — One  night,  while  on  my  beat  m  the  upper 
part  of  the  city,  a  young  woman,  carrying  something  in  her 
arms,  which  a  large  and  very  rich  shawl  completely  covered, 
passed  me,  more  than  once,  in  a  wild,  distracted  way,  as  if 
looking  for  something,  or  some  place,  which  she  could  not 
find.  I  watched  her,  carefully,  as  she  went  back  and  forth 
in  this  strange  fashion  and  at  last  saw  her  sink  down  on  a 
doorstep,  when  the  faint  wail  of  a  child  came  from  beneath 
her  shawl.  I  was  about  to  speak  to  her,  when  she  lifted 
her  head,  saw  my  uniform,  and  starting  up,  came  toward 
me. 

"  'Will  you  tell  me,  sir,  where  I  can  find  the  river?' 

"  The  voice  in  which  these  words  were  spoken  was  low 

and  timid.     The   female   who  uttered    them    seemed   very 

young,  in  the  light  of  that  street  lamp,  which  was  near 

enough  to  reveal  her  features,  as  faces  are  seen  in  a  dream. 


124  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

She  was  utterly  unlike  any  woman  who  might  have  been 
expected  out  of  doors  that  time  of  night,  and  I  looked  at 
her  keenly  before  I  made  answer  to  her  question  ;  but  her 
head  drooped  forward  ou  her  breast,  and  I  could  only  dis- 
cern that  the  face  was  both  young  and  fair. 

'••Which  river  do  you  ask  for?'  I  questioned,  wondering 
that  a  young  creature  with  the  address  and  language  of  a 
highly-bred  person,  could  be  there  to  make  an  inquiry  so 
vague  and  strange. 

•"Any — no  matter  which.  To  find  one,  shall  I  turn  to 
the  right  or  left?  ' 

'•  I  was  standing  above  Fiftieth  Street  on  the  west, 
where  many  vacant  lota  lay  between  us  and  the  Hudson, 
which  was  not  very  far  off;  but  shrunk  from  saying  this, 
and  only  answered, 

'"If  you  turn  either  way  there  is  a  river — but  this  is  so 
strange ' 

"The  girl  did  not  hear  my  closing  words,  but  turned  to 
the  left,  where  the  houses  were  scattered  and  a  grove  of 
trees  loomed  up  in  the  distance,  flinging  their  shadows 
against  the  sk}r.  I  could  not  leave  my  beat,  but  followed 
her  anxiously  with  my  eyes,  and  saw  that  she  walked  with 
a  slow  step,  which  bespoke  great  fatigue,  if  not  absolute 
despair. 

'"This  is  strange,'  I  thought,  'that  voice  had  a  despe- 
rate meaning  in  it.  I  wonder  if  she  really  thinks  of  that ; 
poor  soul ! — poor  soul,  she  will  surely  come  to  grief.  If  she 
wen-  not  drifting  out  of  my  beat,  I  would  follow  her!' 

"The  moon  was  up,  but  clouded,  and  but  few  stars  ap- 
peared;  so  it  was  mostly  by  the  street-lamps  that  I  kept 
her  in  sight,  until  she  passed  out  of  my  beat.  When  I 
lost  sight  of  her,  she  was  making  straight  for  the  river,  and 
hurried  on  as  if  urged  forward  by  the  fright  my  face  had 
given  her. 

"  The  clock  from  a  far-off  steeple  struck  the  hour. 


WHICH      RIVER.  125 

"  It  was  not  many  minutes  before  I  was  relieved,  and  free 
to  follow  the  woman,  which  I  did,  though  she  had  lost  her- 
self among  the  shadows.  I  then  turned  toward  the  river, 
and  followed  the  young  creature  at  a  cautious  distance,  until 
she  left  the  paved  street  and  went  into  the  enclosure  of  a 
private  mansion,  where  shrubbery  was  thick  and  the  grass 
so  elastic  that  I  could  approach  close  to  her  unnoticed. 

"She  had  heard  the  heavy  rush  of  flowing  waters  coming 
up  through  the  solemn  night,  and  quickened  her  steps  as  if 
the  voice  of  a  friend  had  called  to  her  from  a  great  distance. 

"  '  Oh,  it  is  there  !  it  is  there  ! '  she  moaned,  '  my  last — 
last  friend — the  only  one  that  will  take  me  in  and  hide  me.' 

"Now  her  footsteps  beat  swiftly  on  the  turf  as  she  sped 
onward,  guided  bj'  the  deep  whispering  of  the  waves.  She 
was  skirting  the  walls  of  a  garden,  over  which  roses  and 
clustering  masses  of  honeysuckles  trailed  out  of  bounds, 
filling  the  night  air  with  fragrance,  that  for  one  moment 
evidently  checked  the  girl  in  her  progress ;  or  she  was 
stricken  faint  with  a  sudden  recoil  of  conscience,  perhaps. 

"  '  They  are  blossoming  now — now  around  my  window, 
as  they  did  then,  just  a  year — only  a  year!'  I  heard  her 
say. 

"  The  girl  wrung  her  hands,  looking  wildly  around,  as  if 
she  sought  for  some  human  being  to  pity  her;  but  nothing 
was  near  save  the  faint  odor  of  flowers,  that  seemed  to 
wither  her  like  poison  ;  and  the  far  off  drifts  of  the  river, 
blended  with  the  flow  of  a  soft  wind  through  innumerable 
leaves,  and  the  stir  of  roses  under  their  dew. 

"  The  very  fragrance  and  beauty  of  the  night,  while  it 
seemed  to  lift  her  soul  out  of  its  dull  apathy,  stung  it  to 
desperation.  She  turned  and  fled  from  the  garden  wall, 
and  I  lost  her  among  the  great  primeval  trees,  that  made 
the  place  solitary  as  a  hermitage.  Without  giving  it  a 
thought,  I  plunged  into  the  shadows  of  the  grove,  beyond 
which  the  great  river  was  flowing. 


126  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"I  heard  sounds  of  her  progress  through  the  under- 
growth, and  followed  with  cautious  swiftness  ;  for  her 
dress,  her  air,  and  the  child  that  she  carried  under  that 
shawl,  suggested  a  tragedy,  which  it  was  my  duty  to  pre- 
vent. The  street  she  had  been  threading,  that  immense 
flower-garden,  and  the  grand  old  mansion,  which  seemed  as 
if  buried  in  the  heart  of  a  wilderness,  the  shrubbery  was  so 
old  and  thick  around  it,  were  now  left  behind.  I  could 
hardly  see  my  way  iu  the  dense  thickness  of  those  trees 
which  grew  close  to  the  river,  flinging  their  shadows  over  it, 
in  places,  and  making  the  spot  so  lonely  that  I  felt  a  thrill 
of  dread,  as  the  contrast  between  its  isolation  and  the  street 
I  had  left,  broke  upon  me. 

"  Everything  was  quiet.  My  own  footsteps  were  smoth- 
ered in  the  forest-turf,  and  a  gentle  shiver  of  the  leaves  was 
all  the  sound  I  heard.  What  had  become  of  that  poor  girl? 
Had  she  already  found  time  to  make  the  plunge  I  felt 
sure  she  meditated.  My  heart  shrunk  from  the  thougth, 
so  I  watched  and  waited,  feeling  the  presence  of  another 
human  soul,  as  one  sometimes  knows  a  thing  independent 
of  the  senses. 

"As  I  stood  in  the  shadow,  something  seemed  to  move 
on  a  large  sloping-rock,  which  formed  a  picturesque  feature 
in  one  corner  of  the  grounds,  on  which  the  trees  grew  less 
thickly.  That  moment,  a  cloud  swept  back  from  the  moon, 
and  I  saw  the  woman  whom  I  had  frightened  so,  standing 
on  the  rocks,  which  shot  some  distance  into  the  stream, 
where  the  waters  eddied  and  curled  around  it  with  a  sweet, 
monotonous  music,  that  seemed  to  lure  and  hire  the  woman 
on,  till  she  stood  on  the  very  edge.  Her  shawl  was  thrown 
back  now,  and  I  saw  the  child.  She  did  not  look  at  it,  but 
turned  her  face  away,  and  lifted  the  infant  high  in  hex 
arms. 

-  I  started  forward,  bul  checked  myself,  for  she  had  falleo 
down  upon  the  rock,  and  hugging  the  child  to  her  bosom, 
was  kissing  it  with  passionate  vehemence,  calling  out. 


WHICH      RIVER. 


127 


"  < I  cannot — I  cannot !  Oh,  my  God  !  how  could  I  think 
of  it?  My  child!  My  child!  You  are  not  hurt!  There! 
there  !  there  !     Oh,  what  can  I  do  ?  what  shall  I  do  ?' 

"Again  and  again  she  fell  to  kissing  the  little  creature, 
moaning  over  it  like  a  dumb  animal ;  breaking  forth  into 
bitter  sobs,  now  and  then,  until  some  fear  seized  her,  and 
she  looked  around,  evidently  terrified  by  her  own  voice. 
Full  ten  minutes  she  sat  caressing  the  child,  in  her  passion- 
ate despair.  Then  she  arose  to  her  feet  once  more,  uplifted 
it  in  her  arms,  and  staggering  back,  fell  prone  upon  the 
rock,  clasping  the  infant  to  her  heart. 

"The  struggle  was  terrible;  but  I  had  faith  in  the  power 
of  a  motherhood  which  could  battle  so  fiercely  against  an 
evil  resolve,  and  waited,  knowing,  that  at  the  worst,  I  could 
save  her  and  the  child. 

"  She  arose  to  a  sitting  posture,  very  pale  and  still  now, 
for  I  could  see  her  face,  plainly,  in  the  moonlight ;  and  it 
was  white  as  snow — white  and  beautiful.  An  exclamation 
almost  broke  from  me.  I  knew  the  face!  More  than  once 
had  I  marveled  at  its  beauty ;  more  than  once  had  I  seen  it 
beaming  with  love,  uplifted  to  another  face,  which  will 
never  leave  my  memory — that  of  a  man  I  love  better  than 
a  brother. 

"Do  you  understand?  Can  you  guess  who  this  young 
mother  was?  I  did  not  know  her  name  ;  but  there  was  no 
mistaking  that  proud,  white  face. 

"The  young  woman  sat  a  long  time,  gazing  at  her  child, 
in  the  moonlight,  as  if  seized  by  some  apathy  of  the  soul 
which  made  that  rock  its  last  anchorage. 

"  At  last  she  took  off  her  shawl,  and,  kneeling  over  the 
little  creature,  wrapped  the  garment  around  it.  She  did  not 
look  at  it  after  this,  but  arose  from  her  knees,  and  went 
staggering  away  from  the  river,  through  a  patch  of  moon- 
light, and  into  the  shadows,  looking  toward  the  rock,  con- 
tinuously, as  if  she  had  left  her  heart  behind,  and  longed  to 
pluck  it  back  to  her  bosom  again. 


128  THE     REIGNING      BELLE, 

"After  she  was  gone,  I  went  down  to  the  rock  which  was 
now  bathed  in  the  beautiful  moonlight,  and  seemed  as  peace- 
ful as  a  cradle,  for  the  waters  as  they  swept  around  it  mur- 
mured a  soft  lullaby,  and  a  poisonous  vine,  which  had  turned 
scarlet  in  the  hot  sunshine,  seemed  in  its  duskiness  and  dew 
like  an  imperial  drapery  cast  around  the  little  creature 
where  it  lay. 

"A  bramble  studded  with  green  acrid  fruit,  which  bent  it 
down  like  the  plume  from  a  helmet,  drooped  its  shadow 
over  the  infant  where  it  lay  muffled  in  the  shawl. 

"  I  put  the  bramble  away  and  was  startled  when  two 
great,  wide-open  eyes  looked  up  at  me,  through  the  moon- 
light, as  if  wondering  at  the  rough  features  that  met  them, 
instead  of  the  beautiful  woman's  face  which  had  drifted 
away  from  it  through  the  shadows. 

"  I  took  the  child  in  my  arms,  and  laid  its  little  cheek  to 
mine.  The  touch  filled  my  soul  with  tenderness  ;  having 
seen  that  woman's  face  I  could  not  give  that  child  to  the 
almshouse.  No,  I  resolved  that  she  should  be  my  own — 
the  sister  of  my  little  Ruth. 

"  I  carried  the  pretty  waif  home,  and  gave  her  to  my 
wife.  She  was  taken  by  surprise,  and  resented  the  adop- 
tion, at  first;  but  it  was  impossible  to  resist  those  pretty, 
infantile  ways,  and  at  last  this  child  became  dear  to  her  as 
our  little  Ruth.  Yes;  dear  as  the  boy  that  was  afterwards 
born  to  us. 

'•  We  kept  the  fact,  that  this  child  was  not  our  own,  a 
secret  from  every  one.  Even  our  children  are  ignorant  that 
she  is  not  in  fact  their  sister.  I  never  sought  to  iden- 
tify the  young  mother.  Remembering  how  near  she  had 
been  to  murdering  her  own  child,  I  dared  not  place  it  again 
in  her  power.  Besides,  we  loved  the  foundling,  and  that 
love  grew  strong  as  nature  in  our  hearts. 

"  You  know  that  I  was  educated  for  a  better  position  than 
has   fallen  to   my   lot  ;   and  I  resolved  to  give   even  superior 


WHICH      RIVER.  129 

advantages  to  my  children.  My  wife  is  a  prudent  house- 
keeper, and  out  of  our  small  resources  we  have  managed  to 
save  money  enough  for  this  purpose,  and  to  secure  a  humble 
home,  iu  which  we  are  now  living.  If  God  spares  me,  some 
prosperity  may  yet  be  won  out  of  our  hard  lives.  But  just 
now,  I  am  desponding,  without  reason,  for  my  health  is 
good  and  my  purpose  strong.  If  I  should  be  cut  down, 
what  will  be  the  fate  of  my  family?  I  ask  this  question 
with  a  pang.  Have  I  done  right  to  educate  these  two  girls 
for  a  position  so  much  higher  than  they  can  ever  hope  to 
attain?  Have  I  done  right  in  keeping  all  that  I  have  told 
you  a  secret  from  Eva  herself?  Was  it  not  my  duty  to 
search  out  the  mother,  who  had  cut  her  off;  thus,  perhaps, 
securing  to  her  a  future  more  promising  than  anything  I 
had  to  offer? 

"  1  am  asking  myself  these  questions  now,  and  the 
answer  is  a  selfish  one.  TVe  could  not  give  her  up  to 
another. 

"My  friend,  let  me  tell  you  all.  The  woman  who  aban- 
doned her  child,  with  such  throes  of  anguish,  was  no 
common  person.  Everything  about  her  bespoke  refinement 
and  wealth.  The  shawl,  in  which  she  wrapped  her  infant, 
was  a  rare  and  costly  one.  The  garments  were  enriched 
with  the  finest  lace ;  the  sleeves  were  looped  back  with  pink 
coral — such  as  can  only  be  found  in  perfection  at  Naples — 
fastened  with  a  clasp  of  gold. 

"We  kept  these  things,  sacredly,  thinking  that  the  time 
might  come  when  Eva  would  be  driven  to  seek  out  her 
mother.     But  not  while  I  live.     She  loves  us,  and  is  happy. 

••  My  friend,  I  have  been  thinking  how  suddenly  death 
sometimes  comes  upon  us,  and  how  helpless  she  will  be, 
with  all  her  fine  talents  and  rare  beauty,  when  I  am  gone. 
Thinking  of  this,  how  could  I  help  remembering  you,  my 
friend  of  friends.  With  a  tenacity  I  cannot  resist,  the 
thought  fastens  on  me,  that  I  should  be  doing  you  a  wrong 
8 


ICO  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

if  I  withheld  our  secret  from  you.  Be  this  as  it  may,  I 
know  that  you  will  be  her  friend  when  I  am  gone.  In  her 
time  of  need,  should  it  over  come,  you  may  search  out  that 
portion  of  her  history,  which  I  have,  up  to  this  time,  shrunk 
from  investigating. 

"  If  love  for  this  child  has  made  me  secretive  and  selfish, 
you  will  have  the  energy  to  redeem  the  wrong  and  place 
her  in  the  higher  position  which  I  solemnly  believe  to  be 
hers  by  right. 

One  thing  I  charge  you.  If  it  should  come  out  that  the 
girl  lias  no  legal  right  to  claim  her  parents,  keep  this  Becret 
from  her,  forever.  She  is  proud,  and  so  keenly  sensitive, 
that  disgrace  would  kill  her;  in  that  case,  my  humbler 
name  would  be  far  better  than  a  dishonored  one,  however 
exalted. 

"  You  are  abroad  now ;  but  I  have  kept  trace  of  you 
through  all  these  years.  Once  or  twice  your  letters  have 
reached  me.  I  know  that  you  have  won  a  high  place 
among  men  of  genius;  that  your  guardianship  will  be 
an  honor  to  this  proud  girl;  that  even  for  my  own  delicate 
Kuth  you  will  have  some  fatherly  kindness.  Am  I  wrong 
in  asking  this  ?      I   think  nut.     You  are  the  only  friend  of 

tl Id  time   that  I  have  left.      In  our  school  days,  we  \o\  ,d 

each  other;  in  our  manhood  the  feeling  grew  and  strength- 
ened. After  my  death,  if  that  should  come,  you  will  he 
mindful  of  the  old  love,  and  kind  to  those  1  leave  behind 
me. 

"  One  thing  you  will  remember.  My  wife  has  the 
clothes,  the  coral,  and  the  India  shawl,  in  which  little  Eva 
was  wrapped  that  night.  She  will  give  them  to  you.  reluc- 
tantly, I  daresay;  no  misfortune  will  ever  make  her  will- 
ing to  part  with  the  girl;  hut  she  will  remember  my  charge, 
and  give  them  up.  at  your  request  Perhaps  they  will  lead 
to  something  in  your  hands. 

"Why    do    I    write    this    now,   after    so    many  years   of 


THE      PAWNBROKER.  131 

silence  ?  I  cannot  answer.  But  this  evening,  a  strange, 
dark  presentiment  came  over  me,  and  I  was  impelled  to 
place  Eva's  story  on  paper.  It  can  do  no  harm.  My  wife 
will  keep  it  safe  till  you  come,  if  I  am  doomed.  Doomed  ! 
How  absurd  all  this  seems  in  a  man  of  perfect  health  and 
more  than  ordinary  strength.  It  is  strange  and  wild,  but 
troubled  times  are  coming  upon  the  land,  times  when  these 
death  shadows  will  not  be  confined  to  one  man.  Yet,  some- 
how, I  feel  with  mournful  solemnity,  that,  after  I  am  dead, 
you  will  get  this  paper,  and  act  upon  it  in  behalf  of  your  old 
friend, 

"  Leonard  Laurence." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE     PAWNBROKER. 


Ross  never  took  his  gaze  from  the  paper  until  he  had 
read  it  through  :  then  he  folded  the  pages  back  and  re- 
perused  every  word,  with  a  burning,  eager  question  in  the 
eyes,  that  seemed  to  devour  each  syllable  as  it  arose  to  view. 
The  perusal  had  left  him  pale  to  the  lips.  He  held  the 
pages  with  a  firm,  hard  grip,  as  if  he  feared  they  would 
escape  him,  long  after  he  had  mastered  their  contents. 
Then  he  arose,  and  began  to  pace  the  floor,  with  a  slow, 
heavy  tread,  pondering  over  many  things  in  his  mind,  with 
a  restless  burning  of  the  eyes  that  bespoke  a  storm  at  the 
heart. 

How  was  he  to  appease  this  craving  curiosity  ?  In  what 
way  was  he  to  arrive  at  the  truth  regarding  this  girl,  whose 
future  had  been  placed  in  his  hands,  by  the  document  still 
clutched,  tightly,  there  ? 

Laurence  was  right.     Herman   Ross  was   not   a  man   to 


132  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

falter  in  a  case  like  this.  If  the  girl  had  claim?,  he  was 
resolved  to  search  them  out,  and  maintain  them  after  they 
were  found.  But  something  more  exciting  than  mere  de- 
termination— an  almost  frenzied  wish  to  learn  the  whole 
truth  possessed  the  man.  All  the  proofs  that  existed  he 
would  have  at  once.  Suspense  was  more  than  he  could 
bear. 

Ross  took  his  hat,  and  went  out  again,  walking  rapidly 
toward  the  Laurence  cottage.  This  time  he  sought  the  back 
entrance,  and  found  Mrs.  Laurence  alone  in  her  kitchen. 
Her  keen,  grey  eyes  were  as  hard  as  steel,  when  she  turned 
them  upon  him,  with  a  look  that  seemed  half  fear  half  defi- 
ance. 

"Well,"  she  said,  sharply,  "you  know  it  all  now.  Is  it 
in  you  to  take  her  away  from  us,  now  that  we  need  her  more 
than  ever?  " 

"I  have  come  to  ask  some  questions.  This  paper  speaks 
of  articles  that  are  in  your  possession.  May  I  look  at 
them  ?  " 

Mrs.  Laurence  sunk  into  a  chair;  the  little  color  natural 
to  her  face  died  out,  leaving  only  a  flush  around  the 
eyes. 

"I — I  cannot  give  them  to  you  just  now,''  she  stammered. 
"  Did  the  paper  speak  of  them  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  they  are  important — very  important." 

"  But  how  was  I  to  know  that  you  would  ever  come,  or 
that  anyone  —  a  man  particularly  —  would  want  a  lot  of 
baby-clothes?" 

"  But  I  do  want  them,  and  at  any  cost  must  have  them,"' 
said  Boss,  almost  fiercely.  "Surely  they  are  not  destroy- 
ed?" 

"  Destroyed  ?     No  ;  I  haven't  done  that."' 

Boss  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  the  hot  color,  which  mount- 
ed to  his  face,  died  out  as  the  woman  completed  her  sen- 
tence. 


THE      PAWNBROKER.  133 

"But  the}'  are  not  all  on  hand." 

"Not  on  hand?" 

"  What  right  have  you  to  question  me  so?  Most  of  the 
things  are  here  ;  hut  we  were  starving,  sir — starving  !  Do 
you  know  what  that  means?  I  pawned  one  or  two  things. 
There,  j-ou  have  the  truth.  Go  in  and  look  at  the  pale  girl 
lying  there  ;  then  wonder,  if  you  can,  that  I  gave  up  every- 
thing to  keep  her  from  dying  before  my  eyes." 

"But  they  can  be  found?  Surely  they  are  not  out  of 
reach  T"  said  Ross,  anxiously. 

"  I  don't  know.  We  haven't  been  rich  enough  to  redeem 
anything  ;  but  you  shall  have  the  tickets.     Wait." 

Mrs.  Laurence  went  up  the  back  stairs,  and  left  Ross 
walking  restlesslj'  up  and  down  the  kitchen.  She  was  gone 
some  time,  but  came  down  at  last,  carrying  a  bundle  in  her 
hand. 

"  Here  are  the  things,"  she  said  curtly.  "  Yellow  as  saf- 
fron, with  lying;  but  here  they  are." 

She  opened  the  bundle,  and  shook  out  a  long  infant's 
frock,  trimmed  half  a  yard  deep  with  Valenciennes  lace  and 
emhroidery,  all  yellow  witli  age,  but  of  exquisite  richness. 

Ross  laid  it  aside  with  an  impatient  movement  of  the 
hand. 

"It  tells  nothing,"  he  said.     "Nothing  at  all." 

"  The  moths  have  got  into  the  flannel,"  said  Mrs.  Lau- 
rence, passing  her  hand  under  the  rich,  silken  embroidery 
of  a  flannel  skirt ;  "  but  you  can  see  the  pattern,  for  they 
never  touch  silk.  Some  lady  did  that,  let  me  tell  you.  with 
her  own  fingers.     This  is  no  hired  work." 

Ross  glanced  at  the  pretty  grape-vine,  which  had  grown 
golden  on  the  riddled  flannel,  and  was  himself  struck  by 
its  beautiful  finish.  All  at  once  he  snatched  it  from  the 
woman's  hold,  and  examined  it  more  closely,  as  if  he  saw 
something  curious  in  every  leaf  and  tendril. 

"  I  should  know  the  pattern.     Somewhere  I  have  seen  it 


134  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

before,"  he  muttered,  in  a  voice  that  was  almost  inaudible; 
"but  where?  how?" 

"  There  is  nothing  else  but  this  mite  of  a  shirt,  with  lace 
around  it  like  a  cobweb,  and  the  linen  so  fine  you  could 
almost  pack  it  in  a  thimble,"  said  Mrs.  Laurence,  wanned 
into  soft,  womanlj-  feeling  by  the  sight  of  these  little  gar- 
ments. 

••  Nothing  more?  But  the  shawl,  the  coral — where  are 
they?" 

"  Pawned  !  "  was  the  curt  answer.     "  I  told  you  so." 

"  Where  ?  Let  me  look  at  the  tickets,"  was  the  impa- 
tient rejoinder. 

Mrs.  Laurence  drew  an  old,  worn  porte  monnaie  from  her 
pocket,  and  took  from  it  two  pawn-tickets,  which  she  handed 
to  her  visitor,  almost  smiling  at  the  disappointment  that  lay 
before  him. 

Ross  glanced  at  the  tickets,  and  dropped  them  to  the 
table  in  bitter  distress.  They  had  been  forfeited  a  whole 
year. 

"I  did  not  suppose  they  would  amount  to  much  now," 
said  Mrs.  Laurence,  picking  up  the  papers.  "Sold  long 
ago,  I  dare  say." 

Ross  took  the  tickets  from  her  baud  again,  and  read  the 
address  with  a  forlorn  hope  that  the  articles,  so  important 
to  his  search,  might  be  found  unsold.  He  left  the  house  at 
once,  and  proceeded  to  the  pawnbroker's,  scarcely  heeding 
or  caring  that  the  whole  world  saw  him  enter  a  place  that 
is  the  last  foothold  of  poverty  before  it  drops  into  abject 
want. 


THE      PAWNBROKERS      OFFICE.  1 OD 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE     PAWNBROKER'S    OFFICE. 

A  dull,  dreary  place  was  this  pawn-office:  its  narrow 
counter  all  grim  with  use;  its  walls  studded  from  floor  to 
ceiling  with  miserable  looking  bundles;  its  boxes  partitioned 
oft*  like  cells  in  a  prison,  where  the  sensitive  and  inexperi- 
enced sheltered  themselves  while  taking  their  last  degrad- 
ing steps  on  a  downward  career.  All  these  things  struck 
Ross  with  a  chill,  for  there  is  something  fearfully  pathetic 
in  poverty  when  it  takes  a  form  like  that. 

With  a  sense  of  strange  humiliation,  this  refined  gentle- 
man glided  into  one  of  those  secret  boxes,  into  which  want 
shrinks  from  the  human  gaze  with  a  keener  sense  of  shame 
than  guilt  often  knows.  His  breath  came  short,  and  he 
asked,  hoarsely,  if  there  was  yet  a  possibility  of  redeeming 
the  articles  which  the  two  crumpled  tickets  represented. 

The  pawnbroker,  a  heavy,  dark  man,  whose  hands  were 
as  unclean  as  his  practices,  took  the  tickets,  saw  the  date, 
and  handed  it  back  with  a  gruff  shake  of  the  head. 

"Forfeited  long  as:o.  You  ought  to  have  seen  that,  if 
you  know  how  to  read." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Ross,  too  anxious  for  resent- 
ment. "  Of  course,  I  was  aware  of  the  date ;  but  is  it  pos- 
sible to  obtain  these  articles?" 

"  Obtain  them  ?     No  ;  they  are  sold." 

Ross  still  held  the  rejected  tickets  in  his  hand,  which 
shook  a  little. 

"Sold;  but  there  must  be  some  record.  Is  it  not  possi- 
ble to  find  them  ?  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  it  could  be  done.  Whoever  got  those 
two  things  had  a  bargain  that  they  won't  be  likely  to  give 
up.     The  shawl  was  real  Injy;  worth  a  thousand  dollars,  if 


180  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

it  was  worth  a  cent;  and  the  coral  was  a  lovely  tint,  like  a 
tea-rose,  and  carved  beautifully — not  to  be  matched  in  this 
country.     Bargains!     Both  great  bargains  !  " 

"I  am  willing  to  pay  their  full  price — double  that " 

"  Ha  !     What  is  that  ?     Double  ?  " 

"Yes;  that  is  not  more  than  I  am  willing  to  give." 

"  Double-double !  That  would  be  two — say  three  thou- 
sand. Is  that  the  correct  sum — three  thousand  ?  A  good 
thing!     A  good  thing,  if  you  get  them!" 

The  craving  wretch  spoke  gleefulty,  rubbed  his  palms 
together,  and  eyed  Boss  as  if  he  longed  to  devour  him. 

Through  all  his  anxiety,  Boss  felt  the  disgust  such  greed 
was  sure  to  inspire,  and  answered  him  sharply. 

"I  will  give  two  thousand  for  the  shawl,  and  two  hundred 
for  the  coral — not  a  cent  more;  but  that  can  be  settled  with 
the  possessor  of  the  articles,  who  will  probably  be  content 
with  their  full  value.  If  you  will  inform  me  who  the  pur- 
chasers are,  it  is  all  I  desire  at  present." 

"Who  they  are?  Oh,  yes !  Such  greenness  belongs  to 
us.  Young  in  the  business,  you  know.  Haven't  cut  our 
eye-teeth.  You're  likely  to  get  at  them  articles  without  me, 
very  ;  but  how  are  you  going  to  do  it,  that's  the  figure  ? 
How  are  you  going  to  do  it?" 

"  Then  you  will  not  help  me  ?  " 

"  Why  that  is  just  what  you  and  I  are  bargaining  about. 
Say  three  thousand,  and  I'm  on  hand." 

"  Three  thousand  for  articles  not  worth  more,  by  your 
own  showing,  than  a  third  of  the  amount,  and  for  which 
you  only  advanced  fifty  dollars.  Surely,  you  cannot  be  in 
earnest." 

"  In  earnest?  Well,  you  will  find  that  I  shall  not  abate 
one  dollar.  A  thing  is  worth  what  one  can  get  fur  it. 
You  want  this  shawl  and  coral  for  something  more  than 
their  worth,  and  so  make  fancy  stock  of  them.  You  under- 
stand they  are  my  fancy  stock,  and  for  any  good  they  will 
be  to  you,  I  am  the  holder." 


MRS.      CARTER'S      OLD      FRIENDS.  137 

"  But  they  are  sold,  you  admitted  that." 

"  Yes  ;  but  my  books  are  not  sold — and  without  them, 
how  can  these  things  be  traced  ?  Oh,  never  mind !  you 
will  come  to  my  terms,  people  generally  do!" 

Ross  took  his  hat  from  the  counter,  and  turned  to  leave 
the  box,  in  which  he  had  stood  while  conversing  with  this 
man  The  pawnbroker  eyed  him  furtively,  with  a  crafty 
smile  on  his  lips.  He  was  not  disheartened,  for  the  anxiety 
in  tho^e  deep-set  eyes  was  too  apparent  for  doubt.  The  man 
would  make  any  sacrifice  rather  than  lose  the  articles  he 
sought. 

"  You  will  think  better  of  it,  sir,"  he  said,  leaning  over 
the  counter,  and  following  the  retreating  man  with  an  oily 
smile.      "  Remember,  I  am  always  to  be  found  here." 

Ross  lifted  his  hat  and  disappeared,  making  no  other 
reply.  For  a  moment,  disgust  of  the  man  overpowered 
even  the  strong  wish  that  had  brought  him  to  that  miser- 
able place. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

MRS.    CARTER    STANDS    BY    HER    OLD    FRIENDS. 

Mrs.  Carter  had  that  profound  respect  for  her  own  taste 
which  springs  out  of  utter  ignorance;  and  her  great  party 
would  have  been  something  wonderful  in  the  way  of  shoddy- 
ism,  but  for  the  gentle  and  kindly  interference  of  her  brother 
Ross.  But  she  looked  upon  him  with  something  like 
adoration,  for  his  opinions  were  so  modestly  given,  that  they 
seemed  to  originate  in  herself.  Thus  he  had  sent  the  gorge- 
ous pictures  from  her  boudoir  to  Battles'  room  in  the  stable, 
and  after  them  went  many  an  object  of  inestimable  value  to 
the  lady,  but  which  were  received  by  the  aesthetic  coachman 
with  a  sniff  of  critical  contempt. 


138  THE      R  E  I  G  N  I  N  G      B  E  I.  L  V.. 

Up  to  this  time  the  contractor's  lady  had  reveled  in  the 
adornment  of  her  house.  She  had  often  heard  it  said  that 
certain  persons  of  her  new  circle,  who  had  shot  up  like 
mushrooms  in  the  unhealthy  atmosphere  of  our  civil  war, 
owed  all  that  was  elegant  in  their  establishments  to  the 
artists  and  upholsterers  they  employed.  This  was  a  charge 
Mrs.  Carter  resolved  should  never  be  brought  against  her. 
So,  after  six  months  of  hard  worry  and  interminable  shop- 
ping, an  effect  was  produced  of  promiscuous  gorgeousness, 
that  was  wonderful  to  behold.  The  really  refined  persons 
who  began  to  patronize  her,  were  so  completely  surprised 
by  this  display,  that  she  mistook  their  amused  astonishment 
for  admiration.  This  inspired  her  with  new  ambition,  and 
she  plunged  into  attempts  at  harmony  and  contrast,  that 
fairly  set  the  beholder's  teeth  on  edge  as  words  of  hollow 
flattery  passed  through  them. 

Thus  it  was  that  Mr.  Hoss  found  his  sister  and  her  habi- 
tation. Carpets,  gorgeously  independent  of  draperies  ;  florid 
frescoes,  statues  in  deep  shallow;  flaming  vases  in  the  light; 
mirrors  in  every  available  space;  ami  pictures,  such  pictures! 
in  magnificent  frames,  surrounded  him  on  every  side.  But 
genius  is  great,  and  money  all  potent.  Out  of  this  confu- 
sion, the  man  of  real  taste  soon  produced  effects  harmonious 
as  a  poem;  and  no  person  could  enter  that  mansion  with  an 
idea  that  its  arrangement  had  been  left  either  to  an  uphol- 
sterer or  to  an  ignorant  woman.  Soon  Mrs.  Carter  saw  how 
much  more  beautiful  everything  had.  become,  and  gloried 
in  it. 

Having  surrended  so  much  to  her  brother,  she  was  ready 
to  yield  to  him  in  all  things  connected  with  her  social  life. 
When  he  suggested  the  purchase  of  Ruth  Laurence's 
sketches,  and  asked  for  an  invitation  to  the  party,  for 
which  cards  were  about  to  be  issued,  she  consented  at  once, 
and  thus  fell  in  with  her  old  crony  and  friend.  Mis.  Smith. 
One   afternoon,    Mrs.    Carter   came    home    in   a   state   of 


MRS.      CARTER'S      OLD      FRIENDS.  139 

unusual  excitement.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  her  eyes 
sparkled,  and  her  style  was  like  that  of  a  warrior  prepar- 
ing for  battle.  Without  stopping  to  take  off  her  things,  she 
mounted  to  her  brother's  studio,  which  was  in  the  very  top 
of  the  building. 

"  Herman,"  she  said,  sitting  down  by  her  brother's  easel, 
"I've  gut  myself  into  a  scrape,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me 
out.  Not  that  I  need  help,  if  Carter  wasn't  so  uppish  about 
such  things:  but  he  was  determined  that  I  should  give  up 
the  old  set  for  good  and  all,  when  I  came  in  here — and  so  I 
did.  The  day  I  went  to  see  that  Miss  Laurence,  who  should 
come  in  but  my  old  neighbor,  Mrs.  Smith,  just  as  good, 
whole-hearted  a  woman  as  ever  lived.  Of  course,  I  was 
glad  to  see  her — my  heart  uot  being  a  nether  millstone,  nor 
yet  a  junk  of  ice.  Then  she  was  natural  as  life,  thinking, 
no  doubt,  that  I  should  keep  her  at  arms-length,  because 
of  all  this  silk  and  lace,  and  bracelets,  and  she  only  in  a 
calico-dress.  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  do  it,  Herman ;  old 
neighbors  are  old  neighbors;  and,  between  you  and  me, 
brother,  I'm  not  certain  that  them  old  times  were  so  much 
worse  than  these.  At  an  rate,  my  heart  warmed  to  Mrs. 
Smith,  and  that  child  of  hers,  so  that  I  hated  to  come  home." 

Here  Mrs.  Carter  walked  to  the  window,  passed  a  hand 
over  her  eyes  once  or  twice  and  came  back  again. 

"  Mrs.  Smith  has  got  a  splendid  baby,  you  know  ;  and 
holding  it  in  my  arms  was  such  a  heart-aching  treat,  after 
all  that  we  have  lost,  Carter  and  I.  It's  a  thing  we  never 
mention  between  us;  but  the  sight  of  a  fine,  wholesome 
baby  is  sure  to  make  rny  breath  come  quick.  After  losing 
three  of  them,  and  none  left,  and  this  house  built  with  a 
nursery,  it's  heart-rending  to  think  of;  and  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  that  Mrs.  Smith  was  richer  than  I  was,  after 
all. 

'•  Well,  we  took  dinner  together — ham  and  eggs — real  old 
times ;  and  cooked  so  nice.     So,  while  the  old  home-feeling 


140  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

took  full  hold  of  rae,  I  up  and  gave  my  old  friend  a  card  for 
my  party,  having  one  in  my  pocket  at  the  time.  This  was 
the  reason  of  my  doing  it,  unthinkingly,  as  one  may  say, 
and  long  in  advance  of  other  people.  She  was  so  pleased  — 
tickled  almost  to  death  ;  and  is  going  to  buy  a  new  mory- 
antique,  and — what  will  please  you,  I  know — says  that  she 
will  bring  Miss  Eva  Laurance  with  her  —  carriage-hire 
being  all  the  same  for  three  as  for  two." 

Here  Boss  made  an  impatient  movement,  which  his  sis- 
ter saw.  and  half  resented. 

"  Now  don't  you  turn  against  me,  Herman.  It's  had 
enough  to  have  Carter  curling  np  his  nose  at  old  friends, 
that  were  always  ready  to  help  him,  when  lie  needed  help; 
but  my  own  brother "' 

"You  misunderstand,"  said  Ross.  "I  find  no  fault  with 
feelings  that  do  you  honor.  Far  from  it.  But  as  for  Miss 
Laurence,  we  had  arranged  about  her  coming,  and  there  need 
be  no  alteration  in  that,  I  should  think." 

"But  Carter  objects  even  to  her.  And  as  for  Battle,  his 
sneers  about  going  into  that  neighborhood  are  beyond  bear- 
ing." 

"Perhaps  in  some  respects,  Carter  is  right.  You  will 
find  it  very  difficult  to  make  classes  mingle  harmoniously, 
even  in  this  republican  countr}\  Stronger  atid  more  expe- 
rienced woman  than  you  have  tried  it,  and  failed  signally. 
A  land  that  owns  no  aristocracy  but  that  of  wealth,  will 
always  draw  sharp  lines  between  the  poor  and  the  rich." 

"  But  you  do  not  object — you  will  help  me  out.  I  wish 
now  it  hadn't  been  done;  but  one  can't  bake  hack  an  invita- 
tion ;  and  Carter  is  very  cruel  to  ask  it ;  isn't  lie  ?  " 

"Of  course  you  cannot  take  back  an  invitation.  And  I 
dare  say  your  old  friend  will  manage  to  appear  well  enough 
for  the  occasion.  Society,  since  the  war.  lias  put  up  with  a 
great  many  strange  innovations.  So,  I  have  no  doubt  that 
your  friend  will  pass." 


MRS.      CARTER'S      OLD      FRIENDS.  141 

"It's  kind  of  you  to  say  so,"  answered  Mrs.  Carter,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes.  "As  for  Carter,  his  heart  is  like  a  mill- 
stone, sinee  he  became  so  rich.  Oh,  Herman !  sometimes  I 
wish  we  had  been  content  as  it  was." 

"  Well,  well,  throw  all  these  little  troubles  off  your  mind. 
I  have  something  to  tell  you — something  to  propose.  Per- 
haps a  great  favor  to  ask  of  you  and  Carter." 

"  It's  granted,  Herman.  I'd  lay  down  my  life  for  you  ; 
and  so  would  Carter.  He's  awful  proud  of  having  a  real 
gentleman  in  the  family.  So  am  I — and  that  gentleman 
my  own  brother." 

Ross  reached  out  his  hand,  and  drawing  the  kind-hearted 
woman  toward  him,  kissed  her  on  the  cheek. 

"  Now  tell  me  what  it  is,"  she  questioned,  cheerfully. 
"  If  it's  money " 

Ross  shook  his  head. 

"Not  that!     Not  that!" 

"  Dear  !     Dear  !     What  can  it  be  then  ?     Just  tell  me." 

"  Not  now.     In  a  day  or  two." 

"Another  invitation  for  some  one?  Well,  you  shall 
have  a  whole  handful  of  blanks,  and  fill  them  out  yourself. 
Will  that  do?" 

"  For  the  present,  less  than  that  will  do,  sister." 

'•'  Well,  as  many  as  you  like,  and  anything  else  you  like. 
Now  I  begin  to  feel  better,  and  will  go  down  to  Carter,  like 
the  mistress  of  her  own  house." 

With  this  heroic  resolve,  Mrs.  Carter  left  the  studio. 


142  THE      REIGNING      BEL  L  E. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

YOUNG   LAMBERT    SPEAKS    OUT. 

"Yes,  mother,  it  is  the  truth  ;  I  have  seen  the  young 
lady  more  than  once." 

"I  know  it,  Ivon.  You  were  seen  walking  by  her  side 
in  the  street." 

Mrs.  Lambert  spoke  calmly,  but  with  a  cold  intonation 
of  the  voice  that  her  step-son  understood  as  something  far 
more  expressive  than  an  outburst  of  anger;  but  his  answer 
was  as  quiet  as  her  question  had  been. 

"  Once  or  twice  I  found  myself  on  the  same  side-walk 
with  the  young  lady  to  whom  1  have  been  properly  intro- 
duced." 

"  Properly  introduced  !  How  can  that  be  ?  There  is  no 
proper  introduction  between  a  shop-girl  and  a  young  gentle- 
man of  position  and  fortune,"  replied  the  lady,  with  an 
angry  flush  on  her  cheeks. 

"Position,  if  you    please;  but    as    for    the  fortune,  that 

depends I  claim  nothing  on  expectations.     It  would 

be  arrogance  if  I  did.' 
"This  is  a  sudden  iit  of  humility.  Ivon." 
"No,  madam,  it  is  not  sudden;  the  thought  has  been  in 
my  mind  a  lung  time.  No  man  has  a  right  to  discount  on 
the  future,  or  waste  his  energies  because  there  is  no 
immediate  need  that  they  should  be  put  forth.  Say  that  I 
am  young,  well  educated,  and  have  just  property  enough, 
from  my  father,  tor  individual  independence,  and  you  will 
have  defined  my  position  exactly.  Is  it  so  very  moch 
better  than  that  of  the  young  lady  we  are  speaking  of?  " 

-The    young     lady,    as    you    call    her.    is    a    shop-girl," 
answered  Mrs.  Lambert,  with  unsuppressed  scorn. 

"  And  in  that  my  superior.      She  earns   her  own  indepen- 


YOUNG      LAMBERT      SPEAKS      OUT.  143 

dence,  and    aids    those   more    helpless    than    herself,  while 

I Well,  it  is  useless  to  say  what  my  life  has  been. 

The  greatest  energies  I  have  as  yet  been  called  upon  to  put 
forth,  is  exerted  in  collecting  your  rents,  and  depositing 
your  money." 

"  But  you  are  my  son — not  one  person  in  ten  remembers 
that  you  are  not  actually  so.  Some  day,  if  you  do  nothing 
to  prevent  it,  the  bulk  of  my  property  will  be  yours.  All 
my  real  estate  must  descend  to  a  Lambert.  It  is  a  proud 
old  name,  and  needs  wealth  to  sustain  it.  To  your  father  I 
gave  that  wealth.  It  was  a  part  of  his  greatness,  and  lifted 
him  above  all  the  petty  economies  which  have  so  often 
degraded  our  American  ministers  abroad.  It  was  my  pride 
that  through  me  his  position  at  the  Imperial  Court  had  no 
such  humiliating  difficulties." 

"And  it  was  his  pride,  for  he  told  me  so  a  hundred  times, 
that  no  high-born  lady  of  that  proud  land  ever  filled  a  lofty 
position  with  more  dignity  and  grace.  Young,  beautiful, 
and  richer  in  acquirements  than  in  wealth,  how  could  it  be 
otherwise  ?  Ah,  madam,  he  thought  less  of  your  property 
than  of  those  other  things.  Where  love  is,  gold  sinks  to 
the  bottom." 

Mrs.  Lambert  did  not  reply  at  once ;  a  cold  shadow  crept 
over  the  animation  of  her  face,  but  she  answered  at  last. 

''Love  is  a  delirium,  which  comes  in  force  and  power  but 
once  in  a  lifetime — a  dangerous  insanity  that  never  dies. 
Do  not  permit  it  to  overpower  your  reason,  Ivon.  Of  all 
the  passions  it  is  most  to  be  dreaded." 

"But  how  is  one  to  guard  against  it,  madam?" 

''I  cannot  advise,"  auswered  the  lady,  "for  no  human 
being  ever  took  counsel  patiently  from  another,  when  this 
passion  was  upon  him.  I  can  only  warn  you,  my  son.  that 
no  greater  trouble  comes  on  earth  than  springs  out  of  a 
Lw-born  union.  It  is  the  one  mistake  which  can  never 
be  wholly  retrieved — class  should  match  with  class.  When 
love  descends,  it  13  terrible." 


144  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"  But  what  constitutes  class  in  a  republic,  mother,  where 
society  is  ever  changing?  One  must  merge  into  the  other. 
Look  at  the  social  upheaving  which  the  war  has  brought 
about,  where  the  very  lowest  strata  of  society  has  been 
forced  to  the  surface,  and  claims  rank  with  the  best." 

"I  know,  I  know!"  cried  the  lady,  impatiently.  " Pov- 
erty itself  is  better  than  that !  " 

"It  seems  to  me  that  honorable  birth,  talent,  and  pure 
morals,  should  form  the  aristocracy  of  a  great  nation — these 
are  personal  attributes  which  cannot  be  attained  by  accident 
or  dishonesty,  as  money  is  often  acquired." 

Mrs.  Lambert  made  an  impatient  movement  with  her 
hand. 

"It  is  useless  arguing,  Ivon.  Class  must  be  distinguished 
as  we  find  it.  The  Lamberts  have  no  need  to  doubt  their 
position  in  any  country.  Be  careful  not  to  imperil  it  by  too 
open  attentions  to  the  girl  I  have  been  speaking  of." 

"But,  mother,  she  is  refined  and  beautiful." 

"  So  much  the  more  dangerous." 

"Thoroughly  educated,  accomplished,  even." 

"  Perhaps  !     How  am  I  to  know  ?  " 

"  You  have  seen  her,  heard  her  speak." 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  that  she  is  dangerously  beautiful; 
heard  her  speak  with  shrinking,  that  seemed  almost  repul- 
sion.    Ivon  !  Ivon!  let  me  never  hear  of  her  again  I" 

"How  can  you  be  so  prejudiced,  mother,  knowing  so  little 
of  the  poor  girl  ?  " 

"  How  much  can  you  know,  Ivon?" 

"Everything.     I  have  taken  pains  to  inquire." 

"  Knowing  that  she  was  a  shop-girl,  what  more  did  you 
wish  to  learn  ?  " 

"All  that  could  be  told." 

"Well,  what  did  you  learn?" 

The  lady  Bpoke  breathlessly,  as  if  the  subject  pained  her, 
and  she  was  impatient  to  end  it. 


MISS      SPICE  R.  145 

"I  learned  who  her  parents  were." 

"Well?" 

"  Her  father  was  a  policeman." 

"A  policeman  !     "Well,  what  more?" 

"  Who  is  dead.  This  girl  is  helping  to  support  his  widow 
and  two  other  children,  one  a  confirmed  invalid.  They  are 
very  poor." 

"  Then  leave  them  in  their  poverty,  I  charge  you." 

Mrs.  Lambert  spoke  with  unusual  warmth.  The  subject 
had  disturbed  her  greatly.  Something  more  deep  and  subtle 
'than  her  indomitable  pride  had  been  touched,  of  which  she 
"was  even  herself  unconscious. 


0 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

MISS    SPICER. 

A  card  was  brought  into  the  dainty  boudoir  in  which 
Mrs.  Lambert  was  conversing  with  her  son.  This  was  fol- 
lowed so  quickly  by  Miss  Lucy  Spicer,  that  there  was  no 
possibility  of  refusing  her  admission,  even  if  the  occupants 
of  the  room  had  desired  it.  But  her  presence  was  welcome 
to  the  lady,  for  she  arose  promptly  to  receive  her  guest,  glad 
to  escape  a  subject  which  was  hateful  to  her. 

"Looking  younger  and  more  lovely  than  ever!"  ex- 
claimed Miss  Spicer,  after  kissing  the  lady  with  enthusi- 
asm. "  I  wonder  if  it  will  be  possible  for  me  to  grow 
handsomer  as  I  grow  older  ?  Of  course  not.  It's  only 
one  or  two  women  in  a  generation  that  can  do  that." 

Here  Miss  Spicer  seemed  to  become  suddenly  aware  of 
Ivon's  presence,  and  addressed  him. 

"Now  this  is  a  treat,  Mr.  Lambert;  one  never  expects  to 
find  you  at  home;  but  here,  with  mamma,  in  this  bijou  of 
9 


146  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

a  room,  is  a  surprise.  Come,  now,  let  us  make  up  before 
the  maternal  ancestor.  It  wasn't  my  fault.  I  couldn't,  for 
the  life  of  me,  help  seeing  you,  and  that  abominably  hand- 
some shop-girl.    Why  didn't  you  take  a  back  street?" 

"  Then  it  was  Miss  Spicer.  I  could  not  imagine  who  had 
done  me  the  honor  of  reporting  my  movements,"  said  the 
young  man,  bowing  low. 

"Angry,  ha!  Don't  like  people  to  make  a  note  of  his 
little  escapades.  Well,  it  isn't  quite  fair.  But  when  one 
overleaps  all  the  barriers  of  society  so  bravely,  of  course, 
he  must  expect  it  to  be  known." 

"And,  of  course,  young  ladies  who  have  nothing  else  to 
do,  must  be  expected  to  magnify  and  multiply  the  news." 

Miss  Spicer  threw  up  her  hands. 

"  Nothing  else  to  do !  Now  1  like  that ;  as  if  there  ever 
was  seen  a  creature  so  hardworking  as  a  young  lady  in  soci- 
ety. Only  think  of  the  notes  one  has  to  write ;  putting  off 
disagreeable  people,  and  enticing  the  other  set  on  ;  the  shop- 
ping; the  walks  down  town  just  as  business  breaks  up,  when 
crowds  of  us  turn  southward  as  steadily  as  sunflowers  keep 
with  the  sun;  hunting  down  dress-makers,  tormenting  mil- 
liners, reading  all  the  French  novels,  little  flirtations  with 
one's  music-master,  learning  love  phrases  with  one's  Italian 
teacher.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Lambert,  one  has  to  crowd  life  even 
to  get  in  gossip  and  scandal  enough  to  spice  it  respectably. 
Don't  talk  to  me  about  having  nothing  else  to  do." 

"  I  never  will  again.  The  occupations  you  enumerate 
are  too  grand  and  noble  for  dispute.  Hereafter  I  shall  set 
down  a  fashionable  young  lad}'  as  the  busiest  and  most  use- 
ful creature  on  earth." 

"  Of  course  we  are.  Eternally  on  the  go,  scarcely  time  to 
breathe  from  morning  till  night." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  why  so  many  of  them  are  called  'fast,'" 
said  Lambert,  demurely. 

"  Oh,  you  abominable  creature!"  cried  the  young  lady, 


MISS     SPICE  R.  147 

shaking  her  cane-parasol  at  Lambert.  "That's  intended 
for  me  ;  but  I  don't  accept  it.  You  are  to  consider  me  as 
among  the  prudes  and  conservatives,  remember.  Did  I  not 
come  liere  to  rebuke  your  own  fast  conduct?  Don't  expect 
to  get  rid  of  the  shop-girl  by  attacking  me." 

"I  have  no  wish  to  get  rid  of  her  in  any  way,  Miss  Spi- 
cer," said  Lambert,  gravely.  <;  Xor  do  I  care  to  make  her 
the  subject  of  this  conversation.  Mother,  have  you  any 
commands  ?  " 

Mrs.  Lambert,  who  had  been  quietly  listening  to  this  war 
of  words,  shook  her  head. 

"  Oh !  if  you  are  going  down  the  Avenue,  I  don't  mind 
walking  a  block  or  two,"  said  the  irrepressible  Miss  Spicer, 
pulling  down  her  lace  mask,  and  grasping  the  coral-mounted 
handle  of  her  parasol,  as  if  it  had,  in  fact,  been  a  cane. 

"  It  will  require  something  of  that  kind  to  set  you  right, 
after  your  promenade  with  the  lady  we  don't  care  to  mention. 
But,  wait  one  moment,  I  had  forgotten  what  brought  me 
here.  Mrs.  Lambert,  do  give  me  your  advice.  I  have  a 
card  for  that  Mrs.  Carter's  party.  What  shall  I  do  about 
it?" 

Mrs.  Lambert  looked  up  quickly,  and  a  flush  of  unusual 
color  came  into  her  face. 

"  I — I  beg  pardon  ;  what  did  you  say,  Miss  Spicer  ?  " 

"  Only  if  I  can  venture  on  accepting.  She  is  so  awful 
shoddy,  it  will  be  great  fun." 

"I  have  received  cards,"  answered  Mrs.  Lambert,  quietly, 
"  and  it  is  probable  that  I  may  accept." 

Miss  Spicer  let  her  parasol  drop  to  the  floor,  and  clapped 
both  hands. 

"  That  is  splendid  !  Then  we  can  all  accept.  They  tell 
me  her  house  was  like  a  curiosity-shop,  when  her  brother, 
a  great  artist,  came  from  abroad,  and  pitched  all  the  trash 
she  had  been  collecting,  into  the  stable.  He's  splendid, 
every  one  says  !     Awfully  handsome,  and  so  aristocratic.     I 


148  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

know  half  a  dozen  girls  that  are  dying-to  go  on  his  account. 
The  wall-flowers  are  all  in  a  flutter,  I  can  tell  you,  for  he 
isn't  young." 

Mrs.  Laiuhert  arose  hastily,  walked  across  the  room,  and 
re-arranged  the  folds  of  an  amber-satin  curtain,  that  fell 
over  a  broad  window  of  the  boudoir.  In  her  nervous  baste, 
she  loosened  the  heavy  cords  that  held  it,  flooding  the  win- 
dow with  silken  drapery,  and  the  room  with  mellow,  golden 
light. 

Miss  Spicer  laughed,  lifted  her  parasol  from  the  floor,  and 
began  gathering  up  the  folds  of  silk  with  it,  thus  throwing 
Mrs.  Lambert's  face  into  full  light. 

"  Why.  how  strangely  you  look  !  "  she  said,  in  her  reckless 
way.  "Pale  as  a  ghost!  "Wanted  air,  and  going  to  open 
the  widow.     I'll  do  it  for  you.'*' 

A  gush  of  fresh  air  swept  through  the  open  sash,  and 
brought  some  color  to  Mrs.  Lambert's  face. 

"Are  you  better,  dear  madam?"  said  Ivon,  approaching 
the  window  with  tender  anxiety. 

"Better!  No,  indeed!  I've  not  been  ill.  It  was  only 
the  shadows  thrown  from  this  yellow  drapery.  Help  me 
draw  the  cords.  No,  no !  leave  the  lace  down,  a  softened 
light  is  pleasanter.  Now,  Ivon,  I  will  not  detain  you  or 
Miss  Spieer  from  your  walk." 

"That  is  giving  us  both  a  polite  dismissal,"  cried  the 
young  lady,  laughing.  "Well,  come  along,  Mr.  Lambert, 
your  maternal  ancestor  gives  permission.  I  won't  take  your 
arm  unless  you  insist.  Xo  one  will  have  a  right  to  think  us 
engaged,  if  I  walk  along  demurely  by  myself,  not  even  the 

pretty What,  frowning!     Well,  I  never  will  say  she's 

pretty  again — never !  never !  never  ! " 


oi:         :  14! 

t:aptee  :::::: 

old  nsmaaa  a^x  -  - 

It  was  some  moments  be: 

.       ni  Mrs.  Lan  :  •  ■  j 
fa   aud  fro     ;  ■    : 

-  us  if  she 

ght  forever.      1    -   -   -  _      - 

i  her  hai<  _  ----:_-- 

-  —J  broke 

mit  sound. 

-  "  will  make  a  lion  of  him      Even  1 
found  out  how  more  than  handsomt  i  :  .    ■     - 

above    the    shallow   men    t:  --  •--    fa    admire.      .---    I 

heavens  !  has  it  come  to  this  ?     1  -ears  of  a^e, 

and  jealous  of  him  now.  as  I  was  then  w  I  did 

love  him  —  how  I  do  love  him  !     Can  such 
Can  the  grave  bury  them  ?     Can  a  human  sonl  cast  them 
off?     And  I.  I  met  him  with  scorn.     The  ma.. 
fatal  hour  seized  upon  me  when  he  stood  befort  i 
one  from  the  tomb.     How  could  I  look  him  in  tbe  face  ? 
Why  was  it  that  my  pride  refused  to  bow      -  ,]e  half 

my  being  yearned  toward  him  ?  What  does  he  think  of 
me?  Scorn  and  loathing!  Scorn  and  loathing!  What 
else  can  I  expect?  What  else  would  a  sane  woman  wish  ? 
But  is  this  sanity  ?  Will  this  passion  haunt  me  forever  ? 
Even  thus,  is  it  not  better  than  the  barren  life  I  have  led 
all  these  year.- 

The  woman,  too  restless  for  continued  motion,  threw 
herself  on  a  couch,  and  buried  her  hot  cheek  in  its  amber 
cushions,  as  she  had  done  years  before,  when  love  for  this 
one  man  threw  her  heart   into   tumults   of  tenderness  or 


150  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

doubt.  Had  years  done  nothing  for  her  then?  Had 
time  dug  no  gulf  between  them  deep  enough  to  terrify 
her  heart  from  its  hungry  longing  ?  Had  silence,  like  that 
of  the  grave,  failed  to  chill  it  into  indifference? 

He  had  asked  none  of  these  questions.  Would  he  ever 
care  to  have  them  answered  ?  Was  the  heart  he  had 
given  her,  dead  ?  Yes,  yes !  he  had  left  her  to  bitter  retri- 
bution. The  passionate  reproaches  with  which  she  had 
driven  him  from  her  in  his  first  youth,  when  a  keen  sense 
of  his  poverty  and  her  riches  gave  a  double  sting  to  her 
cruel  words,  had  been  fatal.  Her  sin  against  him  had  been 
too  great. 

This  woman  was  not  given  to  weeping,  but  she  cried  like 
a  child  now.  For  weeks  and  weeks  she  had  expected  Ross 
to  seek  her  again.  In  spite  of  everything,  she  had  a  linger- 
ing faith  in  the  love  which  had  seemed  immortal,  and  still 
trusted  in  the  great  nobility  which  had  seemed  capable  of 
infinite  forgiveness.  But  he  did  not  come;  and  now  she 
heard  his  name  uttered  by  that  flighty  girl,  suddenly,  and 
with  flippant  ease,  as  if  it  were  not  a  thousand  times 
removed  from  her,  or  the  females  she  coupled  with  it. 

While  the  lady  lay  prostrate  thus  wounding  her  soul  with 
bitter  memories,  her  maid  came  in,  saw  that  she  was  resting, 
and  left  a  note  upon  the  table  near  her  couch.  She  started 
up,  as  the  door  closed,  holding  her  breath.  It  was  from 
him  ;  she  knew  that  before  the  address  met  her  eye — knew 
it  by  the  wild  tumult  in  her  bosom,  by  the  joy  and  pain 
that  thrilled  her  from  head  to  foot. 

How  strangely  her  name  looked  written  in  that  hand. 
The  seal — ah,  yes!  she  remembered  it.  Letters  upon  a 
tombstone  could  not  have  made  her  heart  sink  so  heavily. 
Her  fingers  were  cold  as  she  broke  the  wax,  and,  oh  !  how 
they  trembled  as  she  unfolded  the  paper  underneath. 

Tho  note  began  coldly.  It  addressed  her  as  Mrs.  Lam- 
bert— the  hateful  name  that  clung  around  her  like  a  serpent 


OLD      MEMORIES.  151 

now.  In  that  name  the  writer  embodied  ten  thousand 
reproaches — a  world  of  withering  contempt.  It  was  need- 
less, she  thought,  to  utter  it  in  any  other  form.  Still,  he 
made,  or  implied,  a  request — that  was  something;  a  request, 
where  he  might  have  commanded,  and  she  would  not  have 
dared  to  disobey.  It  was  a  little  matter.  He  had  just 
learned  that  an  invitation  had  been  sent  to  Mrs.  Lambert 
for  his  sister's  party — a  thing  he  had  not  thought  to  provide 
against — and  which  might  seem  like  an  ungenerous  effort  to 
place  her  in  a  false  position.  It  was,  perhaps,  best  that 
they  two  should  learn  to  meet  in  the  world  to  which  she 
belonged,  and  thus  spare  themselves  the  pain  of  such 
accidental  encounters  as  circumstances  might  force  upon 
them ;  but  of  that,  she  must  judge,  and  hold  herself  free  to 
accept,  or  refuse,  this  invitation  to  his  sister's  house,  as  her 
own  wishes  might  dictate. 

The  note  was  cold  and  formal  enough.  Ross  said  nothing 
of  his  own  wishes,  but  left  her  free — a  thing  which  no 
woman  ever  yet  desired,  where  the  man  she  loved  was  con- 
cerned. But,  chilling  as  it  was,  this  woman  pressed  it  to 
her  lips  and  her  heart,  with  a  wild  and  passionate  fervor 
never  known  to  her  girlhood,  or  that  of  any  other  woman. 
Over  and  over  again  she  devoured  the  words  with  her  eyes, 
and  would,  if  possible,  have  plucked  them  from  the  paper 
with  her  lips.  Would  she  go?  Would  she  meet  him 
again  ?  Yes ;  if  an  army  had  stood  between  her  and  him, 
she  would  have  forced  a  passage  through.  So  completely 
had  her  heart  taken  up  its  old  passion  for  the  man  whom 
she  had  cruelly  wronged. 


152  THE     REIGNING     BELLE. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

BITTER    JEALOUSY. 

Miss  Spicer  was  not  given  to  much  ceremony  at  the 
Lambert  mansion.  In  an  hour  after  she  went  down  those 
broad  steps  with  Ivon  Lambert,  her  high-heeled  boots 
pattered  up  them  again;  for  the  young  man  had  lifted  his 
hat  politely  to  her,  when  they  came  opposite  a  fashionable 
club-house,  and  sought  refuge  there. 

The  young  lady  had  stood  on  the  sidewalk  long  enough 
to  get  up  a  laugh,  and  clench  her  parasol,  which  she  shook 
at  him,  to  the  edification  and  amusement  of  half  a  dozen 
young  men  gathered  in  the  club-house  windows.  Then  she 
retraced  her  steps,  and,  much  to  her  disgust,  walked  up  the 
Avenue  alone,  making  keen  observations  as  she  went. 

All  at  once  the  young  lady  started  off  into  a  quick  walk, 
and,  having  obtained  admittance  at  the  front  door,  ran  up 
stairs.  Without  waiting  for  an  answer  to  her  knock,  she 
darted  into  the  boudoir,  and  found  Mrs.  Lambert  lying  on 
the  couch. 

"Do  get  up,  this  minute,  Mrs.  Lambert;  they  are  going 
by  —  that  girl  and  the  gentleman  we  were  talking  of. 
What  an  awful  flirt  she  must  be — first  one  man  and  then 
another.  It's  just  abominable !  Oh,  how  I  wish  Ivon 
could  see  her  now  !" 

Mrs.  Lambert  started  from  her  couch,  and  hurried  to  the 
window,  urged  forward  by  an  impulse  that  swept  away  her 
usual  slow  grace  of  movement.  Miss  Spicer  was  astonished 
at  the  impetuosity  with  which  that  delicate  hand  dashed  the 
lace  curtains  from  before  the  glass. 

Quick  as  lightning,  those  jealous  eyes  took  in  the  two 
figures  moving  along  the  opposite  sidewalk.  Both  were  tall 
and  uf  commanding  presence.     The  man's  head  was  slightly 


BITTER     JEALOUSY.  153 

bent;  the  girl's  face  was  uplifted,  and  she  was  listening  to 
him,  with  a  smile  on  her  lip.  Truly,  she  was  beautiful. 
The  face,  too,  seemed  familiar ;  something  she  remembered 
afar  off,  came  back  to  her,  as  she  looked  upon  it ;  something 
lost  and  vaguely  regretted  ;  but  what,  or  when  known,  she 
could  not  tell — the  attempt  was  like  groping  through  a 
dream. 

"  Is  that  the  man  Ross  you  were  speaking  of  ?  " 
Mrs.  Lambert's  voice  was  low  and  forced.  The  lace 
which  she  grasped  shook  in  her  hand  so  violently,  that 
Lucy  Spicer  must  have  seen  it,  if  she  had  not  been 
crouching  on  the  floor,  and  watching  the  two  people 
through  the  lower  sash.     As  it  was,  she  only  answered, 

"  Yes,  that's  the  man  !  Splendid,  isn't  he  ?  but  old 
enough  to  be  her  father,  though.  Oh,  I  hope  she'll  catch 
him,  if  it's  only  to  spite  I  von !  for  he  treats  me  shamefully; 
indeed  he  does.  If  I  could  only  give  myself  time,  I'm  sure 
it  would  break  my  heart,  the  way  he  goes  on." 

Mrs.  Lambert  heard  nothing  of  this.  She  was  only  con- 
scious of  a  quick,  darting  pain,  which  settled  down  into 
leaden  heaviness,  through  which  she  could  hardly  breathe. 
Those  two  people  went  slowly  out  of  sight,  the  lace  dropped 
from  her  hand  and  fluttered  down,  softly,  as  snow-flakes  fall, 
under  the  warm  amber  of  the  curtains.  In  this  rich  twi- 
light the  woman  hid  her  pallor,  and  the  red  flush  about  her 
eyes,  from  the  curious  girl,  who  still  sat  watching  on  the 
carpet,  and  went  back  to  her  couch,  hearing  the  clatter  of 
that  ceaseless  tongue  as  men  listen  to  a  far-off  wind. 

"  Mrs.  Lambert,  now  remember,  you  saw  this  girl  flirting 
like  wild-fire  with  a  man  she  never  saw  before  half  a  dozen 
times  in  her  life;  that's  certain,  for  I've  taken  pains  to 
find  out  all  about  him.  There  never  was  so  great  an  artist 
born  as  he  has  been.  Gets  thousands  and  thousands  for  a 
picture ;  so  that  he  don't  trouble  himself  to  paint  for  com- 
mon people.     Besides  all  that,  he's  the  only  brother  that 


154  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

rich  Mrs.  Carter  has  got;  and  her  husband  says  he  don't 
want  a  better  heir  to  his  property ;  so  he'll  be  an  awful 
catch,  everyway ;  quite  too  good  for  that  creature.  If  it 
wasn't  for  getting  into  a  scrape  with  Iron,  I'd  cut  in  there. 
I  have  a  mind  to  do  it  now.  It  would  serve  Ivon  right  for 
daring  to  walk  with  her  and  own  it  to  my  face.  Couldn't 
even  take  the  trouble  to  cheat  me  with  a  fib.  I  hope  you'll 
give  it  to  him,  Mrs.  Lambert ;  he  don't  care  a  cent  for  what 
I  say.     "Won't  you,  now?" 

Here  the  young  heiress  gathered  her  plump  little  person 
from  the  carpet,  and  knelt  down  by  the  prostrate  woman, 
who  lay  with  her  face  turned  to  the  cushions,  which  her 
hands  grasped  nervously. 

"  You  will  talk  with  him,  Mrs.  Lambert,  alone,  and  ear- 
nestly." 

"Talk  with  him!  No,  that  can  never  be  again!"  cried 
the  woman,  in  her  passionate  grief,  lifting  herself  from  the 
couch.  "Why  should  we  two  be  alone?  1  am  nothing  to 
him.  That  day  has  gone  with  my  youth  and  beauty;  these 
it  was  that  he  loved.     How  much  of  them  is  left?" 

The  unhappy  lady  threw  out  her  arms,  as  if  appealing  to 
her  own  image.  In  a  great  mirror  opposite  her  couch,  the 
pale,  anxious,  disturbed  shadow  of  a  woman  flung  out  her 
arms  also,  as  if  repelling  her  appeal. 

Miss  Spicer  was  astonished ;  she  had  been  speaking  of 
young  Lambert,  and  found  this  burst  of  feeling  incompre- 
hensible. 

"  Now  I'm  sure  you  are  mistaken,"  she  said.  u  Men 
don't  care  a  bit  about  their  mother's  beauty,  and  can't,  in 
reason,  expect  them  to  be  young.  I'm  sure  Ivon  loves  you 
a  great  deal  better  than  most  sons  love  their  own  parents. 
So  do  think  of  it,  and  give  him  a  good  talking  to;  for  one 
thing  is  certain,  I'm  not  going  to  take  up  with  a  shop-girl's 
leavings." 

In  a  confused,  weary  way,  Mrs.  Lambert  comprehended 


BITTER      JEALOUSY.  155 

that  the  girl  was  speaking  of  her  own  affairs,  and  had  no 
idea  of  the  anguish  which  had  made  her  so  reckless  of  ex- 
posure. She  seldom  lost  her  proud  self-possession  so  thor- 
oughly, and  made  a  strong  effort  to  recover  herself  before 
that  sharp  girl  could  observe  how  disproportioned  her  agi- 
tation was  to  the  ostensible  subject  in  question. 
"Excuse  me,  Lucy,  my  head  is  aching  fearfully." 
"Poor  dear!  1  know  how  to  pity  you;  only  mine  is  the 
heart,  which  your  eruel  son  is  just  breaking,"  answered 
Miss  Spicer,  pressing  both  hands  to  her  right  side,  just 
where  the  organ  she  spoke  of  was  not,  and  shaking  her 
head  woefully. 

This  attempt  at  the  sentimental  did  more  toward  restor- 
ing Mrs.  Lambert's  composure  than  any  amount  of  reason- 
ing could  have  done.  A  keen  sense  of  ridicule  broke  up 
the  tumult  of  feeling  that  had  almost  prostrated  her,  and; 
spite  of  it  all,  she  smiled. 

"How  am  I  expected  to  help  you,  Lucy?"  she  said,  with 
something  of  her  usual  sweet  manner. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Lambert,  I  have  just  been  telling  you." 
"But  that  was  while  my  head  ached  so  badly." 
"  Well,  if  people  won't  listen,  it's  of  no  use  to  ask  advice  ; 
but,  if  I  must  say  it  all  over  again,  I  want  you,  in  short,  to 
give  that  son  of  j^ours  a  good,  hard  scolding." 

"  I  never  scold,"  answered  Mrs.   Lambert,  with  a  grave 
smile,  for  there  was  trouble  at  her  heart  yet,  not  the  less 
keen  because  pride  held  it  in  abeyance. 
"  Well,  then,  stop  giving  him  money." 
"  Oh  !  but  I  rather  think  he  would  like  that,  Lucy." 
"  Like  it !     Like  it !     No  he  wouldn't !  " 
"I  don't  know;  he's  getting  restless,  of  late." 
"Ever  since  he   saw  this   girl — I  wish   that  shawl  had 
been  in  the  bottom  of  the  Red  Sea  !     Oh  !  if  I  had  her  with- 
in reach  of  my  cane-parasol  for  ten  minutes  !     Did  you  ever 
see  such  a  great,  tall  thing  as  she  is  ?     Sweeps  along  like 


156  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

a  peacock.  Oh,  mercy !  There  he  is  coming!  Don't  tell 
him  that  I've  been  here.  I'll  run  down  the  back  stairs,  and 
out  through   the  garden  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

DRESSING    FOR    THE    PARTY. 


Eva  Laurence  was  dressing  for  her  first  party,  and  the 
very  anticipation  of  its  delights  gave  resplendence  to  the 
wonderful  beauty  of  her  face.  She  was  young,  ambitious, 
and  rich  in  that  vivid  talent  which  doubles  enjoyment  and 
gives  a  keener  edge  to  pain  than  ordinary  natures  ever 
endure. 

Ruth  was  sitting  up,  among  the  cushions  of  her  couch, 
looking  bright  and  happy  as  an  angel.  Her  soft  eyes  were 
full  of  serene  love-light ;  a  faint  color  came  and  wfent  in  her 
cheeks;  and  little  quiver3  of  delight  stirred  her  fingers,  as 
she  smoothed  the  drifts  of  snow-white  tarlatan  that  draped 
her  sister's  slender  person. 

"  Oh,  bow  beautiful  it  is !  How  soft  and  white  !  You 
look  like  a  bride,  Eva  !  " 

"  Or  a  ghost !  "  muttered  Mrs.  Laurence,  in  a  troubled 
undertone.  "  The  ghost  of  a  child  we  have  sheltered  and 
loved,  but  who  will  belong  to  others  when  we  want  her 
most." 

"What  are  you  saying,  mother?"  cried  Eva,  who  was 
stooping  forward  to  look  at  herself  in  a  little  mirror  between 
the  windows,  which  just  took  in  the  outlines  of  her  splendid 
neck  and  shoulders.  "  Something  about  my  dress  that  you 
don't  like,  I  suppose.  It  was  extravagant  spending  so  much 
mone}r ;  but  you  must  scold  Ruth.  She  would  do  it, 
wouldn't  you,  Ruthy,  dear  ?  " 


DRESSING     FOR     THE     PARTY.  157 

"  Oh,  yes  !  mother  must  scold  me  !  but  she  won't  do  it,  in 
earnest.  I'm  not  afraid,  Didn't  she  work  like  a  regular 
seamstress,  to  help  finish  the  dress;  and  isn't  it  beautiful? 
All  it  wants  is  a  little  warm  color." 

"It  wants  nothing  in  the  world,"  said  Eva,  passing  both 
hands  over  the  dark  braids  of  hair  that  fell  in  rich  loops 
down  her  neck,  making  its  whiteness  like  the  leaves  of  a 
magnolia  flower.  "  I  never  was  dressed  so  well  in  my  life, 
and,  perhaps,  never  shall  be  again,  who  knows?" 

"I  know,"  answered  Ruth.  "  These  fashionable  people 
adore  good  looks ;  and,  oh !  sister  Eva,  how  beautiful  you 
are !  Come  down  here,  and  let  me  kiss  you.  How  warm 
and  red  your  cheeks  are ;  it  is  like  feeling  a  peach  at  one's 
lips.  How  I  would  love  to  paint  you  just  this  way,  only  a 
little  color  in  the  dress.  I  insist  on  that  for  the  picture ;  it 
costs  nothing,  you  know." 

"  Come  in,"  Mrs.  Laurence  called,  a  little  sharply,  for 
she  was  ill  at  ease  that  evening,  and  even  a  knock  at  the 
door  annoyed  her. 

It  was  only  little  Jimmy,  who  peeped  through  the  door, 
after  knocking,  to  make  sure  that  even  his  presence  might 
not  create  some  confusion  while  that  momentous  toilet  was 
in  progress.  He  carried  a  mass  of  loose  roses  in  his  arms, 
white,  golden-tinted,  and  red,  some  half  open,  some  in  full 
bloom,  and  others  folded  buds,  clasped  in  with  moss. 

No  wonder  Ruth  uttered  a  glad  crj-,  and  clapped  her  deli- 
cate hands,  gleeful  as  a  child  who  suddenly  finds  its  wishes 
gratified.  No  wonder  Eva  sprang  forward,  and  put  a  hand 
on  either  side  the  boy's  face,  and  kissed  him,  rapturously, 
over  and  over  again. 

"You  darling!  You  boy  of  boys!  Where  did  you  got 
them  ?  "    she  cried.     "  Oh  !  how  could  I  be  so  careless  ?  " 

In  her  eagerness,  she  had  swept  half  the  flowers  from 
Jimmy's  arms,  and  they  lay  at  her  feet,  sending  up  odors 
that  filled  the  little  room.  She  stooped  to  gather  them  up, 
still  questioning  him. 


158  THE      REIGNING     BELLE. 

"Where  did  they  come  from,  so  fresh,  and  such  long 
stems?  There  is  one  on  your  train  ;  it  seems  to  be  buried 
in  snow — such  a  lovely  color/'  cried  Ruth,  fairly  trembling 
with  delight.     '"Now  I  will  make  the  dress  perfect." 

"Where  did  I  get  them?"  answered  James,  emptying 
his  fragrant  burden  on  Ruthy's  couch,  and  kneeling  "down 
to  gather  up  the  portion  scattered  around  Eva.  "  It's  a 
pretty  way  to  find  out,  smothering  a  fellow  with  kisses,  and 
asking  him  to  talk.  Well,  if  you  want  to  know,  a  friend 
of  mine  gave  them  to  me." 

"A  friend?     Oh,  James!" 

"Yes,  I  say  it  again — a  friend.  You  have  seen  him, 
Eva,  through  an  iron  fence ;  gray  hair ;  legs  like  broom- 
sticks.    Does  it  strike  you  ?  " 

"  What,  that  old  man  ?     No  !  " 

"  I  tell  you,  yes  !  He  was  watching  for  me  by  the  gate. 
I'd  been  leaving  some  groceries  in  the  basement,  you  know, 
and  took  a  peep  through  the  railing.  Always  do.  The 
gate  opened  softly,  and  his  queer  old  face  looked  through. 
1  Come  in  ! '  says  he.     '  Have  you  got  a  basket  ?  ' 

"'No/  says  I.     '  The  cook  hadn't  time  to  empty  it.' 

"  •  Well,  come  along  ;  I  want  to  send  something  to  that 
pretty  sister  of  yours/  says  he. 

"  I  went  in,  so  astonished,  that  I  was  steering  through 
the  middle  of  a  flower-bed,  when  he  called  out,  '  This  way !' 
and  went  on  among  a  whole  heap  of  bushes,  just  as  full 
of  roses  as  they  could  hold.  Here  he  took  out  a  great 
jack-knife,  and  cut  away  like  fun,  giving  the  flowers  to  me 
till  my  arms  were  full,  and  their  breath  made  me  long  to 
dance. 

"  <  Take  them  to  the  young  lady/  says  he,  '  and  say  it 
wasn't  just  old  Storms  that  sent  'em,  but  some  one  else 
that '  " 

"  Oh,  James  !  did  he  say  that  ?  " 


ABOUT     THE      ROSES      AND      VIOLETS.       159 

"Of  course  he  did,  and  more  yet;  but  I'll  tell  you  that 
when  we  are  all  alone.     It's  sort  of  private." 

Here  the  boy  made  signs,  and  whispered  mysteriously, 
glancing  at  his  mother,  who  was  retreating  to  the  kitchen 
with  a  cloud  of  unusual  darkness  on  her  face.  She  saw  in 
all  these  excitements  only  signs  of  disaster  and  separation. 


i  »« ■  i 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

ABOUT   THE    ROSES     AXD    VIOLETS. 

Now  we  are  by  ourselves,  girls,"  said  James,  "I'll  tell 
you  all  about  it.     There  was  some  one  else  in  the  garden." 

"  Some  one  else  !  "  exclaimed  Ruth. 

Eva,  blushing  vividly  over  face  and  bosom,  began  to  ar- 
range the  folds  of  her  dress  with  great  earnestness,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  You  know  who  it  was,  Eva,"  said  James,  with  a  sly 
glance.     "  I've  seen  you  walking  with  him." 

"  No,  no,  James !  only  as  he  was  coming  the  same  way. 
Don't  believe  it,  Ruth.  I  never  did  more  than  that,"  cried 
Eva,  eager  to  defend  herself,  yet  trembling  with  a  sense  of 
shame. 

"  Who  said  you  did  ?  Oh,  Eva  !  Eva !  I've  found  out 
something.  It  wasn't  old  Storms  that  gave  you  this,  any- 
how ! " 

Here  James  held  up  a  little  cluster  of  sweet-scented 
violets  and  sprigs  of  heliotrope,  gathered  around  a  moss 
rose-bud. 

"He  picked  this,  Eva,  with  his  own  hands.  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  what  a  fuss  he  made  in  putting  them  to- 
gether. Old  Storms  offered  to  help  him,  but  he  said,  no  ! 
he  would  do  that  himself.     Then  he  said,  '  Give  this  to 


1G0  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

your  sister ;  I  know  that  she  is  going  out  to-night,  and 
shall  be  honored — that's  the  word,  Eva — honored  if  she 
will  wear  it.' " 

Eva  took  the  tiny  bouquet  and  held  it,  irresolute,  casting 
a  shy  glance  at  her  sister,  who  looked  gravely,  almost  re- 
proachfully at  her. 

James,  who  was  watching  them  both,  broke  forth  in  his 
boyish  impatience. 

"  There,  now,  Kuth,  don't  be  an  old  maid,  and  spoil  all  her 
fun.  She  hasn't  done  anything,  I  tell  you.  Not  one  quar- 
ter as  much  as  all  them  Fifth  Avenue  girls  are  doing  every 
hour  of  their  lives.     Now  what  are  you  pouting  for?" 

Kuth  smiled  again.  A  sudden  doubt  had  haunted  her 
for  a  moment,  but  it  passed  from  her  innocent  mind  like 
dew  from  a  h\y,  and  all  was  bright  again. 

"Who  is  he,  Eva?"  she  said,  reaching  out  her  hand. 
"A  gentleman,  Ruth,  if  ever  one  lived.     He  has  been  at 
the  store  several   times,  and    Mr.  Harold  introduced   him. 
They  went  to  school  together,  and — and  that  is  all.     Only 
his  name  is  Lambert — Ivon  Lambert." 

"  His  mother  is  as  proud  as  if  she  were  governor  of  North 
America;  but  he  isn't — not  a  bit  of  it,"  broke  in  James. 
"The  way  he  talks  to  me  is  quite  friendly.  That  fellow, 
Boyce,  now,  would  never  condescend  to  it,  knowing  that  I 
'tend  that  baby  sometimes;  just  as  if  he  and  his  red  hair 
was  anything  particular.  If  Mr.  Lambert  had  not  been  a 
thorough  gentleman,  I  wouldn't  have  brought  his  flowers, 
anyway.     You  ought  to  have  known  that,  Kuth." 

"  As  if  I  did  not  know  it,"  answered  the  sweet  invalid, 
penitent  and  ashamed  of  the  momentary  cloud  that  had 
come  over  her.     "  Eva,  dear,  let  us  begin  again." 

Kuth  gathered  up  the  flowers  in  her  lap,  and  began  to 
arrange  them  in  glowing  clusters,  with  which  she  looped 
back  the  over-dress. 

"Now  just  a  dash  of  this  warm  crimson  for  your  hair, 


ABOUT      THE      ROSES      AND     VIOLETS.       161 

and  nothing  can  be  more  lovely,"  she  exclaimed,  pulling 
Eva  down  to  her  knees,  and  fastening  a  red  rose  and  some 
of  the  mossiest  buds  among  her  braids. 

When  Eva  arose  from  her  knees  she  held  the  little  clus- 
ter of  violets  in  her  hand.  Looking  wistfully  down  upon 
the  blossoms,  she  unconsciously  took  a  position,  which  filled 
Ruth  with  the  enthusiasm  of  an  artist. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  paint  her  now  ! "  she  thought. 

"Would  there  be  any  harm?"  questioned  Eva,  in  a  low 
voice,  turning  her  eyes  wistfully  from  the  flowers  to  Ruth's 
glowing  face.  "  I — I  suppose  be  would  rather  expect  it. 
Don't  you  ?  " 

Kuth  smiled,  and  held  out  her  hand  for  the  flowers,  but 
Eva  pretended  not  to  see  her.  Even  to  that  gentle  hand 
she  would  not,  for  one  moment,  consign  the  precious 
blossoms.  So,  with  a  gentle  wile  of  abstraction,  she  placed 
the  flowers  on  her  bosom,  which  rose  and  swelled  to  their 
almost  imperceptible  touch,  as  waters  bear  lotus-flowers  on 
their  waves. 

"Now,  isn't  she  stunning?"  exclaimed  James,  moving 
in  a  circle,  and  on  tiptoe,  around  the  room,  afraid  of  touch- 
ing the  snow-white  train  with  his  foot.  "That  Miss  Spicer, 
who  goes  down  the  avenue  to  meet  him,  every  day  at  three 
o'clock,  will  be  nowhere.  In  fact,  I  don't  believe  there'll  be 
a  handsomer  girl  at  the  party  to-night.  She's  A  No.  1,  and 
a  picked  article  at  that.     Hallo!     Who's  coming?" 

James  heard  the  outer  door  open,  without  a  knock,  and  a 
heavy  rustle  of  silk  in  the  passage.  Eva  gathered  up  her 
dress,  and  sat  down  on  Ruth's  couch,  ashamed  of  her  own 
beauty,  and  wondering  who  the  intruder  could  be.  Ruth 
smiled,  and  said, 

"  I  dare  say  it  is.  Mrs.  Smith." 

So  it  was,  that  good  woman  in  all  her  glory.     She  pushed 
the  door  wide  open;  for,  with  a  huge  panier  added  to  her 
own  generous   proportions,  the   skirt  of  her  dress   turned 
10 


162  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

upward,  and  thrown  over  her  shoulders,  that  open  space 
seemed  scarcely  sufficient  to  admit  her. 

"  Just  run  down  to  give  you  a  look  at  my  dress  hefore  the 
carriage  comes,"  she  exclaimed,  flinging  an  avalanche  of  red 
moire  antique  down  from  her  shoulders,  and  spreading  it 
along  the  humble  carpet  with  the  pride  of  a  peacock. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  now  ?  Seven  dollars  a  yard, 
and  twenty-five  yards,  besides  trimming.  Going  it,  rather, 
for  a  corner  groceryman's  wife,  isn't  it  ?  But  when  an  old 
friend  asks  you,  a'most  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  to  be  at  her 
first  party,  one  can't  refuse  to  do  the  thing  up  brown,  which 
I  think  Smith  and  I  have  done  it.  Low  in  the  neck,  you 
see,  and  Marier  Antoinet  sleeves  to  say  nothing  of  white 
kid-boots,  with  heels  like  that !  " 

Here  Mrs.  Smith  lifted  her  dress  and  brought  to  view  a 
high-heeled  boot,  strained  till  the  buttons  threatened  to  fly 
off,  over  a  large,  dumpty  foot,  looked  exceedingly  like  an 
apple-dumpling  prepared  for  cooking. 

"  There,  now,  girls,  just  take  a  survey  of  me  all  round, 
and  give  us  your  opinion;  but  first,  Eva,  let  me  have  an 
observation.  All  in  white,  and  looking  like  one  of  them 
great  swans  in  the  Park;  not  bad  !  Though  I  should  like 
something  a  little  more  stylish.  You  are  going  as  my  friend, 
and  I'm  anxious  about  your  looking  first-rate.  Still,  it's 
my  candid  opinion  that  you'll  do.  Step  out  here,  and  let  us 
see  how  your  dress  falls.  Gracious  me,  what  a  train  ! 
Longer  than  mine,  I  do  believe;  streaming  out  like  a  white 
banner.  Yes,  I  say  it  again;  j'ou'll  do,  Eva!  Now  just 
manage  a  thing  or  two  for  me.  I  couldn't  trust  Kate 
Gorman  to  put  on  my  head-dress,  and  brought  it  along. 
Stylish,  isn't  it?" 

Mrs.  Smith  drew  a  paper  from  her  pocket,  and  unfolded 
a  yellow  feather,  long  enough  to  take  in  her  head  at  one 
sweep,  which  she  held  up  triumphantly. 

"  See  how  it  curls  and  quivers ;  something  like  a  feather, 


ABOUT  THE  ROSES  AND  VIOLETS.   163 

that !  Now,  I  want  you  to  put  it  on,  like  a  queen  wears 
her  crown,  over  the  forehead,  round  one  side,  and  streaming 
out  behind  !  " 

Eva  and  Ruth  changed  glances  of  dismay.  Both 
hesitated  to  wound  the  kind  woman's  vanity,  but  felt  that 
silence  would  be  cruel.  ' 

"  I  would  not  wear  anything  on'  mj  head,  Mrs.  Smith  ; 
you  have  such  fine  hair,  it  seems  a  pity  to  conceal  it,"  said 
Ruth.  "  Let  me  do  some  braids,  and  change  it  a  little. 
Then  you  can  have  nothing  more  becoming." 

"But  I  bought  the  feather  a  purpose,"  answered  Mrs. 
Smith,  eyeing  her  purchase  with  rueful  regret;  "and  it  is 
such  a  splendid  one,  with  a  contrast  to  it.  That  was  what 
the  milliner  observed  when  I  told  her  the  color  of  my 
dress." 

"  Still  I  would  not  wear  it  this  evening.  Eva  sees  a 
great  many  stylish  people,  you  know,  and  can  tell  you  that 
feathers  like  that  are  not  in  the  fashion  for  evening-dress, 
just  now." 

"  Oh,  if  she  says  it,  I'll  give  in  ! " 

"  Then  let  me  change  your  hair  at  once.  Sit  down  by 
me.     What  quantities  of  hair,  and  how  long!" 

Deftly,  and  with  fingers  that  seemed  to  fly  through  the 
long  tresses  of  hair,  Ruth  soon  crowned  the  head  of  her 
friend  with  a  matronly  coronal  of  braids,  and  made  some 
other  alterations  in  her  dress,  which  were  submitted  to  with 
inward  protest.  Just  as  the  last  touches  were  given,  a 
carriage  drove  up,  and  some  one  rang  the  door-bell. 

Mrs.  Smith  sprang  to  her  feet,  drew  up  the  skirt  of  her 
dress,  and  ran  into  the  kitchen,  protesting  that  she  would 
not  see  a  stranger  for  the  world.  As  her  dress  swept  with  a 
rushing  and  voluminous  rustle  through  one  door,  Mr.  Ross 
came  through  the  other. 


164  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

MRS.    CARTER    BECOMES    FASHIONABLE. 

Mrs.  Carter's  party  had  been  the  grand  sensation  of 
a  week.  Fashionable  circles  were  profoundly  agitated  by 
the  great  social  question  it  evolved.  The  word  ''shoddy" 
became  inelegantly  common  in  ladies'  conversation.  Fas- 
tidiously exclusive^,  people,  whose  fathers  had  raised  cab- 
bages, sold  milk,  and  fattened  pigs  on  land  that  time,  rather 
than  ability,  had  paved  inches  deep  with  gold,  smiled  signifi- 
cantly, or  answered  with  delicate  reserve,  when  asked  if 
they  would  be  at  the  Carters'.  In  fact,  superfine  jests  and 
aristocratic  sneers  were  the  order  of  the  day,  until  Miss 
Spicer  made  a  round  of  calls  through  all  the  windings  and 
ramifications  of  uppertendom,  when  a  marvellous  change 
was  produced. 

"Of  course,"  the  young  lady  said,  "Mrs.  Lambert  was 
going,  and  openly  expressed  herself  as  highly  pleased  with 
the  invitation.  Why  not  ?  Mrs.  Carter  was  enormously 
wealthy.  Shoddy,  indeed  !  What  of  that?  After  a  great 
civil  war,  society,  like  States,  must  be  reconstructed."  Mrs. 
Lambert  and  herself  had  settled  on  that,  and  nothing  could 
move  them  ;  the  thing  must  be  done  in  the  most  liberal 
manner.  The  aristocracy  of  wealth  had  no  right  to  exclude 
a  lady  like  Mrs.  Carter;  as  for  the  smaller  and  more  exalted 
circle  of  genius,  the  lady's  brother,  Mr.  Ross,  stood  high 
among  the  highest  there — so  the  family  had  a  double  claim 
to  consideration.  At  any  rate,  Miss  Spicer  went  on  to  say 
Mrs.  Lambert  had  accepted,  and  ordered  one  of  the  love- 
liest dresses  for  the  occasion.  In  fact — though  it  was  not  a 
thing  to  talk  about — some  of  her  diamonds  were  being  re- 
set at  Ball  &  Black's.  For  years  Miss  Spicer  had  not  seen 
Mrs.  Lambert  enter  into  the  spirit  of  a  grand  toilet  with 


MRS.      CARTER     FASHIONABLE.  165 

such  zest.  She  was  anxious  as  a  girl  of  sixteen  about  it. 
When  a  royal  prince  was  here  she  had  not  cared  half  so 
much;  but  then  Mrs.  Lambert  always  did  adore  genius; 
and  Mrs.  Carter's  brother  was  something  really  distinguish- 
ed in  that  line — painted  like  an  angel,  and  in  conversation 
was  perfectly  splendid. 

It  was  wonderful  how  much  effect  these  repeated  conver- 
sations of  Miss  Spicer  had  upon  the  great  social  mind  of 
the  metropolis.  The  diverging  current  turned  at  once  in 
favor  of  the  Carters.  Those  who  had  openly  called  the 
lady  vulgar,  now  found  her  remarkably  stylish — not  hand- 
some, but  queenly  and  imposing;  so  generous,  too.  If  she 
was  a  little  showy  and  all  that,  it  was  because  a  rich,  natu- 
ral taste  was  likely  to  develop  itself  gorgeously  when  plenty 
of  money  was  at  hand.  Her  party  would  be  something 
perfectly  magnificent.  Her  orders  for  flowers  had  exhausted 
every  greenhouse  for  miles  around,  and  the  supper  would  be 
marvelous.  It  was  said  that  an  artiste  had  come  out  from 
Paris  to  preside  over  its  preparation. 

All  this  came  from  Miss  Spicer,  who  entered  into  the 
subject  with  spirit  and  imagination  enough  to  have  given 
sensation  for  a  first-class  novel.  So  Mrs.  Lambert,  sitting 
still  in  her  shaded  boudoir,  regulated  society  as  she  had 
done  for  years,  without  apparent  effort;  in  fact,  caring  very 
little  about  it,  except  on  this  especial  occasion,  when  she 
felt  a  nervous  satisfaction  in  being  the  unknown  fairy  who 
turned  the  whole  fashionable  world  into  Mrs.  Carter's 
saloons. 

The  night  came  at  last,  and  Mrs.  Laurence's  humble 
parlor  was  not  the  only  one  in  which  anxious  and  beautiful 
women  were  adorning  themselves  before  their  mirrors, 
though  it  was  doubtful  if  one  so  small  as  that  hanging  be- 
tween those  parlor  windows  was  consulted  during  the  even- 
ing; or  if  the  loftiest  and  broadest  gave  back  a  figure  of 
more  perfect  loveliness. 


166  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

Mrs.  Lambert  stood  in  her  dressing-room,  radiaut  with 
jewels,  pallid  with  nervous  excitement.  She  was  still  a 
beautiful  woman  ;  her  mirror  reflected  that  and  more,  it 
revealed  the  faint  shiver  of  her  hands,  the  anxious  fire  in 
her  eyes,  the  swell  and  contraction  of  her  white  throat, 
under  its  diamond  necklace.  Ellen,  her  maid,  had  never 
seen  her  so  strangely  restless  before;  she  turned  her  eyes 
imploringly  on  the  girl,  and  besought  her  to  say  honestly  if 
she  looked  so  old  as  nine-and-thirty.  The  maid  clasped  her 
hands. 

"Indeed,  indeed,  Mrs.  Lambert,  you  do  not  look  it  by  ten 
years." 

The  proud  woman  smiled,  and  touched  the  girl's  shoulder 
caressingly,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life. 

"Look  again,  Ellen;  can  you  see  no  lines  on  my  fore- 
head, no  contraction  here  at  my  throat?" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind;  if  they  were  there,  I  should,  the 
diamonds  light  them  up  so." 

"  And  my  hair.     Ah  !  Ellen,  I  see  threads  of  white." 

"That  is  because  you  are  looking  for  them;  besides,  your 
hair  is  so  glossy  and  black,  the  least  thing  shows.  A  dust 
of  powder,  now  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no !     He  detests You  ought  to  remember 

that  I  detest  powder.  Take  the  jewels  out  of  my  hair, 
they  kindle  up  every  defect.  My  dress,  too,  looks  presump- 
tuously youthful." 

"  Youthful,  why  not  ?  There  will  be  no  young  lady  at 
the  party  half  so  beautiful.  Besides,  this  shade  of  mauve 
is  neither  old  nor  young,  so  delicate  and  rich  ;  just  a 
glimpse  of  blue,  with  a  faint  blush  of  roses  breaking  out, 
as  the  dress-maker  said,  when  it  came  home,  'something 
for  point  lace  flounces  to  tell  upon,'  says  she,  'satin  thick 
as  a  board,  sweeping  so  majestic,  with  the  lace  floating  over 
like — like  mist.'  That  is  what  she  said,  but  then,  of  course, 
you  know  best,  ma'am — nobody  ever  had  so  much  taste." 


MR  3.      CARTER      FASHIONABLE.  167 

Mrs.  Lambert  was  not  listening,  but  unclasped  her  brace- 
lets, and  took  off  her  necklace  with  an  air  of  disgust. 

'•  One  would  think  I  intended  to  dazzle  the  crowd,"  she 
muttered,  "as  if  such  things  could  do  it." 

••  Oh,  madam  !  you  are  spoiling  everything." 

Mrs.  Lambert  looked  at  herself  drearily  in  the  glass, 
her  dress  had  lost  it  brilliancy — she  seemed  growing  older. 

••  Put  them  on,  again,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  white 
arms,  as  if  the  glittering  jewelry  held  by  her  maid  were 
manacles  of  iron.     "  Xothing  seems  to  become  me,  to-night." 

'•Indeed,  madam,  I  never  saw  you  look  so  lovely ;  no  girl 
ever  had  an  air  like  tha:." 

This  professional  flattery  was  received  by  the  lady  with  a 
quick  feeling  of  interest.  She  longed  to  believe  the  girl ; 
longed  to  think  that  much  of  the  freshness  and  dew  of  her 
youth  remained. 

'•'Ellen,"  she  said,  with  an  appeal  for  trath  in  her  words, 
and  a  piteous  shrinking  from  it  in  her  eyes,  '•'  no  one  will 
look  on  me  with  your  partial  eyes  ;  suppose  you  had  not 
seen  me  since  I  was — well,  since  I  was  married  to  Mr.  Lam- 
bert, you  remember  that,  just  a  chasm  of  so  many  years  to 
leap  over,  would  you  find  me  so  little  changed  then  ?  " 

'•  Indeed,  ma'am,  and  I  would !  " 

The  girl  spoke  honestly;  flattery  had  become  second 
nature  to  her.  and  she  believed  every  word  of  it. 

Mrs.  Lambert  drew  a  soft,  deep  breath ;  she  had  lost 
faith  in  her  own  judgment,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  have  her 
doubts  swept  away,  even  by  the  opinion  of  a  menial.  She 
drew  on  her  gloves,  and  took  up  her  fan,  with  a  bouquet  of 
tea-roses  that  old  Storms  had  sent  up. 

"Madam,  are  you  ready  .'  " 

u  Yes,  I  von." 

The  young  man  stepped  into  the  room  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  surprise  at  his  step-mother's  beauty.  The  admira- 
tion was  genuine ;  Mrs.  Lambert's  eyes  kindled  under  it, 
and  a  warm  blush  swept  across  her  face. 


168  THE     REIGNING     BELLE. 

"It  is  because  you  love  me,  Ivon." 

"No,  it  is  because  I  cannot  help  thinking  you  the  loveli- 
est woman  in  society.     I  never  saw  but  one " 

The  young  man  broke  off,  blushing  more  vividly  than  his 
mother  had  done. 

"Well,  that  one,  Ivon?"  said  the  lady,  with  shadows 
gathering  upon  her  face.     "  Surely,  you  cannot  mean — " 

"But  I  do,  mother;  to  me  there  is  only  one  other — but 
we  will  not  speak  of  her.     The  carriage  is  waiting." 

Mrs.  Lambert  allowed  Ellen  to  wrap  her  in  a  soft,  white 
opera  cloak,  and  bent  her  head  for  a  cloud  of  zephyr 
worsted,  that  fell  as  light  as  snow  upon  it.  At  another 
time,  she  might  have  felt  angry  with  Ivon  for  his  mention 
of  a  girl  she  repudiated.  But  now  she  was  self-occupied, 
and  scarcely  heeded  it;  so,  wrapping  the  snow-white  mantle 
around  her,  she  descended  to  the  carriage,  with  a  feeling  of 
anxiety  which  had  not  possessed  her  for  years. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

A   STRANGE    PROPOSAL. 

An  hour  before  Mrs.  Lambert  commenced  her  toilet,  Mrs. 
Carter  entered  her  own  private  sitting-room  in  full  dress, 
ready  for  her  duties  as  a  hostess.  Her  brother  had  sent  up 
word  that  he  wished  to  speak  with  her  before  the  guests 
began  to  arrive,  and  she  was  waiting  for  him  with  some 
impatience,  for  the  grand  epoch  was  drawing  nigh,  and  she 
was  rather  anxious  about  the  state  of  affairs  below.  She 
was  fanning  herself  with  vigor,  wondering  in  her  heart 
what  Ross  could  have  to  say,  when  the  artist  came  in. 

Then  all  the  good  woman's  impatience  vanished,  and  she 
came  forward  to  meet  him  with  her  usual  genial  warmth. 


A.     STRANGE     PROPOSAL.  169 

"Now,  what  is  it  you  want  to  say,  Ross  ?  Of  course, 
whatever  it  is,  I  am  ready  to  do  it ;  but  we  must  talk  fast,  or 
there's  no  knowing  what  will  go  on  down  stairs." 

"  Let  your  people  take  care  of  that,  sister,  they  will  know 
what  is  proper,"  said  Ross,  smiling  kindly  upon  the  good 
woman,  who  laughed  in  return. 

"  You  see  I  did  not  wear  them  after  all ;  just  a  little 
cluster  here,  to  gather  in  the  black  lace — that  don't  amount 
to  anything,  you  know." 

Here  Mrs.  Carter  glanced  down  at  her  silver-grey  satin 
and  soft  black  lace  with  something  like  a  sigh.  It  was  not 
at  all  the  toilet  she  had  decided  on,  but  Ross,  with  suggestive 
insinuations,  had  toned  down  the  superb  conglomeration  of 
lace,  satin  and  jewels,  into  this  rich,  matronly  dress,  which 
really  made  Mrs.  Carter  look  almost  aristocratic. 

"Nothing  could  be  more  becoming,"  said  Ross,  in  reply 
to  her  half-reproachful  glance,  "  I  am  so  pleased  that  you 
preferred  to  wear  the  lace  I  brought  you.  As  for  the  brooch, 
it  is  just  enough." 

"  Well,  dear,  if  you  think  so ;  Carter  rather  wanted  me 
to  flare  out  a  little  more,  but,  of  course,  you  know  best. 
Now,  what  is  it  you  want  to  talk  about  ?  Sit  down  here, 
and  let  us  take  it  comfortable." 

Ross  seated  himself  upon  the  couch  from  which  Mrs.  Car- 
ter swept  back  her  garments  to  make  room  for  him. 

"  Sister,"  he  said,  with  a  faint  quiver  in  his  voice,  "  I 
have  been  thinking  that  you  and  I  would  be  much  happier 
in  this  great  house,  if  we  had  some  young  person  to  enliven 
it." 

Mrs.  Carter  drew  back  in  her  seat,  and  lifted  both  hands. 

"  Herman  Ross,  does  this  mean  that  you  want  to  marry  a 
young  wife  ?  " 

Ross  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  sister,  I  have  no  thought  of  marrying  any  one ; 
but  I  do  think  of  adopting  a  girl,  and  want  you  to  help  me." 


170  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

"  Adopting  a  girl  ?  Why,  Ross,  that  is  just  what  I  have 
been  thinking  of  myself — a  pretty,  little,  curly-headed  child, 
like  one  that's  in  her  grave.  Of  course,  I'll  help  you ; 
more  than  that,  I'll  do  it  for  you — she  shall  be  mine  and 
Carter's  heiress." 

"I  was  thinking  of  one  who  shall  be  my  heiress,"  said 
Ross,  gently.  "  I  cannot  give  her  millions,  but  there  will 
be  enough  for  us  both." 

"  Thinking  of  one — why,  who  can  it  be,  Ross  ?  I  had  no 
idea  of  your  taking  a  fancy  to  any  child." 

"Nor  have  I,  this  is  a  young  lady." 

"You?     You,  Ross?     A  young  lady?" 

"  Yes,  I  will  adopt  her  ;  all  that  I  have  or  may  have,  shall, 
in  the  end,  be  hers.  What  I  want  of  you,  sister,  is  moth- 
erly protection  for  the  girl.  You  will  not  refuse  her  a 
home  ?  " 

"  Refuse  her  !  "When  did  I  refuse  you  anything?  But 
a  girl — a  young  lady — I  don't  understand.  Is  it  any  one  I 
know  ?  " 

"  You  have  seen  her.  You  remember  the  young  lady  who 
helped  select  your  shawl — Miss  Eva  Laurence  ?  " 

"  That  splendid  creature !     You  adopt  her  ? 

"  Yes,  I  will  adopt  her ;  in  fact,  you  must  do  it  for  me  if 
possible." 

"  And  she  is  to  live  here  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  desire." 

"  As  my  daughter  ?  " 

"  Would  you  be  ashamed  of  her  ?  " 

"  Ashamed  ?  Why  you  and  I  can  make  her  like  a  princess. 
She  can  go  out  with  me  in  the  carriage,  write  my  letters, 
make  calls.  She  shall  have  a  maid  of  her  own — shopping 
money  without  end." 

"  There,  there,  sister,  your  heart  is  running  away  with 
you.  We  must  be  kind  to  the  girl  without  spoiling  her. 
Sim  is  a  sweet,  modest  young  creature,  rich  in  feeling  and 
bright  as  a  flower.     Lot  us  keep  her  so.'' 


THE     WAY     SHE      MANAGED     HIM.        171 

"  Of  course — of  course  !  Carter  will  be  delighted.  He 
does  so  like  a  pretty  face,  and  hers  is  lovely." 

"  But  he  may  not  consent?  " 

"  He  ?  Of  course  he  will !  All  she's  got  to  do  with  Car- 
ter is  to  have  his  slippers  ready,  and  read  the  newspaper 
for  him,  now  and  theu ;  for,  between  you  and  me,  Carter  is 
not  much  of  a  reader,  on  his  own  hook.  Oh,  he's  sure  to 
like  it  ! " 

Ross  leaned  forward  and  kissed  the  flushed  cheeks,  which 
had  become  rosier  and  rosier,  with  the  warmth  of  a  gener- 
ous nature. 

"  Then  we  will  consider  it  settled,"  he  said.  "  I  mentioned 
it  just  now,  because  this  evening  will  be  an  excellent  time 
for  introducing  her  as  a  friend  of  the  family.  That  was  a 
part  of  my  idea,  when  I  asked  you  to  invite  her." 

"This  evening?  Well,  why  not,  she  can  help  me  receive. 
It  will  be  splendid.  I  only  hope  she  will  be  dressed  properly 
—that  is,  like  the  heiress  we  intend  her  to  be." 

"  We  need  not  doubt  that — now  I  will  go  for  her." 

"And  I'll  just  step  down  and  have  a  talk  with  Carter 
about  it." 


i  »»—  > 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE    WAY    SHE    MANAGED    HIM. 

Ross  and  his  sister  parted ;  she  went  into  her  husband's 
room,  and  found  him  in  the  agony  of  putting  on  a  new  dress 
coat,  rather  too  small,  and  which  fitted  him  like  a  straight 
jacket. 

"Mrs.  Carter — Mrs.  Carter,  just  come  and  give  this  skirt 
a  pull,  won't  you?  I  feel  as  if  corked  up  in  a  junk-bottle. 
Confound  all  your  parties,  and  everything  else  that  takes  a 
fellow  out  of  his  frock-coat !  " 


172  THE      REIGNING     BELLE. 

"Why,  Carter,  dear,  it's  a  lovely  fit.  Of  course  you 
must  expect  to  be  tightened  up  a  little  at  such  a  time. 
Only  look  at  me,  would  you  ever  have  believed  my  waist 
could  have  been  brought  down  to  that,  yet  I  don't  complain. 
There  are  things,  Carter,  for  which  we  must  suffer.*' 

Carter  wiped  his  red  face  with  a  towel,  there  being 
nothing  else  convenient,  at  which  his  wife  cried  out,  "Why, 
Carter!"  and  ran  to  a  drawer,  from  which  she  brought  a 
handkerchief  of  the  finest  linen,  with  an  embroidered  mon- 
ogram in  the  corner.  Over  this  she  dashed  a  liberal  quan- 
tity of  perfume  from  a  scent-bottle,  which  she  shook  as  if  it 
had  been  a  pepper-box.  Then  she  brought  out  a  point  lace 
barb,  parted  over  a  white,  silk  cravat,  which  she  tied  around 
his  stout,  red  neck,  leaving  a  kiss  on  his  cheek  when  it  was 
arranged  to  suit  her. 

All  this  had  its  effect.  In  spite  of  his  coat,  Carter  soft- 
ened and  became  amiable.  His  hair  had  been  nicely  curled 
at  the  ends,  a  thing  he  had  submitted  to  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  but,  on  the  whole,  rather  liked.  The  diamond 
studs  in  his  bosom  glittered  like  fire-flies,  and  his  watch- 
chain  coiled  down  his  white  vest  like  a  golden  serpent 
hiding  its  head  in  his  pocket. 

"Now,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  "just  stand  back 
and  let  me  look  at  you." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Carter,  what  have  you  got  to  say  about  it?" 

Here  Mr.  Carter  put  a  thumb  into  each  armhole  of  his 
white  vest,  and  posed  himself  superbly. 

Mrs.  Carter  took  a  general  observation,  drew  nearer, 
smoothed  the  sleeves  of  his  coat  with  her  plump  hand,  and 
observed  that  better-looking  men  might  be  found  in  the 
great  city  of  New  York,  but  she  had  never  set  eyes  on 
them.     At  which  Carter,  being  a  little  doubtful  of  himself, 

blushed  rosily,  and    attempted  a  dancing  step,  which    proved 
an  ignominious  failure,  his  boots  being  as  tight  as  his  coat. 
"My  dear,"    said  Mrs.  Carter,  busying  her  hands  with 


THE     WAY     SHE     MANAGED      HIM.         173 

the  neck-tie  again.  "Do  you  know  I've  been  thinking  of 
a  pleasant  surprise  for  you — a  very  pleasant  surprise?" 

"Indeed,  Mrs.  Carter,  you  have  given  me  one  in  this 
party,  which  I  shan't  get  over  in  six  months.  What  is  it 
to  be  this  time  ?  " 

"A  daughter — a  full-grown,  lovely  daughter.  What  do 
you  think  of  that?" 

"A  full-grown,  lovely  daughter,  Mrs.  Carter?  Well,  I 
think  you  are  in  want  of  a  straight  jacket  more  than  I 
am,  and,  after  the  party,  this  coat  shall  be  made  over  to 
you." 

"  But  I  am  in  earnest,  husband  !  " 

"  So  am  I,  wife,  so  much  in  earnest  that  I  shouldn't  mind 
giving  up  the  coat  now." 

"We  have  often  talked  of  adopting  a  little  girl  since  you 
know  when." 

"A  flush  came  around  Carter's  eyes — he  turned  away 
from  his  wife. 

"  It  would  be  a  trouble  to  bring  one  up,  you  know,  dear. 
Now  supposiug  that  done,  and  a  girl  came  naturally  into 
the  family  about  the  age  she  might  have  been,  wouldn't  you 
rather  like  it?" 

"  I  haven't  thought  about  it,  wife,  have  you  ?" 

"Yes,  Carter,  and  you'll  see  this  girl  to-night.  I've  given 
you  the  idea,  when  )*ou've  seen  her,  just  say  if  she  wont  be 
like  a  sunbeam  in  the  house?" 

"Like  a  what?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Carter. 

Mrs.  Carter  blushed  and  fanned  herself  nervously. 

"It  isn't  my  idea,  Carter;  I  found  it  in  a  magazine  story, 
and  remembered  it  because  it  was  so  original." 

"Let  that  go.  If  the  girl  was  like  a  sunbeam,  she'd 
never  get  into  our  house,  for  fear  of  spoiling  the,  carpets. 
You'd  be  the  first  to  shut  her  out,  old  woman !" 

"  Old  woman !  I  don't  like  that,  Carter.  Look  at  me 
with  your  own  eyes,  from  head  to  foot,  and  say  if  you  are 
not  ashamed  of  yourself?" 


174  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"  Look  at  you  ?  Well,  I'm  a  doing  it ;  but  what  on  earth 
have  you  done  with  all  them  things  from  Ball  &  Black's  ? 
So  far,  I  haven't  seen  nothing  but  the  bills.  I  thought  you 
wanted  to  cut  a  shine  with  them  to-night." 

"Well,  so  I  did,  but  Ross  thought  I'd  better  not.  You 
know,  Carter,  that  beauty  unadorned  looks  belter  than  over- 
loading." 

"Oh!"  said  Carter,  "at  the  magazines  again." 

"Ross  thinks  so,  at  any  rate,  so  I  made  myself  simple 
but  elegant.     Don't  you  think  so?" 

"  Well,  1  don't  know  about  that,  Rebecca,  but  you're  an 
all-fired  good-looking  woman,  any  how!" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Carter!  all-fired,  and  just  as  people  are  com- 
ing." 

"  But  it's  only  between  ourselves,  Beccy." 

"But  you  might- " 

"  No,  I  mightn't.     What  is  it,  Jacob  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Ross  has  come,  sir,  with  the  young  lady,  and  wants 
to  know  if  he  shall  bring  her  up." 

"Yes,"  answered  Carter,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
during  which  he  was  fitting  on  a  cream-colored  glove,  with 
all  his  might.  "  Take  her  into  Mrs.  Carter's  bouder.  We'll 
be  there  in  no  time." 

Jacob  went  out,  and  his  master  tugged  away  at  the  second 
glove,  which  refused  to  meet  at  the  wrist. 

"Mrs.  Carter,  will  you  give  a  little  attention?  This 
confounded  button." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  I  know  what  it  is,  having  suffered. 
There." 

The  glove  was  closed  so  tightly  that  Carter's  wrist  began 
to  swell  above  it,  but  the  spirit  of  martyrdom  was  upon  him, 
and  he  marched  out  of  his  room  without  a  word  of  com- 
plaint, resolving  to  perform  his  social  duties  to  the  utter- 
most. 

Eva  Lauronrp    was  standing    near    the    window  of   that 


A     GLIMPSE      OF     FAIRY     LAND.  1(0 

sumptuous  little  room.  Her  eyes  had  jnst  fallen  on  Ruthy's 
pictures,  framed  in  an  exquisite  net-work  of  gold,  and  the 
pleasant  surprise  brightened  her  face  with  a  smile  that  made 
Carter  hold  his  breath. 

"  This  is  the  young  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  going  up  to 
Eva  with  a  cordial  welcome  in  her  face.  "Miss  Laurence, 
you  have  never  seen  my  husband,  but  he  has  come  to  make 
your  acquaintance." 

Eva  turned  and  saw  a  rather  stout  and  well-formed  man 
coming  toward  her,  with  his  hand  extended. 

"  Delighted  to  see  you,  Miss — make  yourself  at  home, 
and  welcome."  Eva,  grateful  for  the  warmth  of  his  greet- 
ing, laid  her  hand  in  his. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  said,  modestly  ;  "  but  Mr.  Ross 
told  me  I  could  expect  nothing  that  was  not  pleasant  here." 

"  Mr.  Ross  shall  promise  nothing  for  us  that  we  will  not 
perform,"  answered  the  host,  blandly. 

"  My  dear,  that  is  a  carriage — give  me  your  arm.  Ross, 
take  care  of  Miss  Eva.  Dear  me,  there  is  a  party  going  up 
to  the  dressing-room.  What  if  we  meet  them! — oh,  the 
back  stairs.  They  are  a  little  dark,  but  I'll  go  first.  Car- 
ter, take  care  of  my  train.     Ah,  this  is  something  like  ! " 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A    GLIMPSE    OF    FAIRY   LAND. 

Uo  wonder  Mrs.  Carter  gave  voice  to  her  admiration. 
While  she  was  in  her  dressing-room,  chandeliers  and  wax- 
lights  enough  to  turn  night  into  noonday,  had  been  kindled 
down  the  vista  of  three  splendid  rooms,  separated  from  each 
other  only  by  rich,  flowing  draperies  of  silk  and  lace,  vary- 


176  THE     IBieVIIfl     BELLE. 

ing  and  yet  harmonious  in  their  colors,  as  tints  melt  into 
each  other  on  a  sunset  cloud. 

In  the  far  distance  came  the  soft  glow  of  milky  amber, 
stealing  through  transparent  under-draperies,  and  throwing 
a  warm  tinge  over  the  pale  sea-green  of  the  middfe  room. 
Here  all  the  frescoes  were  delicate  and  subdued.  Flowers 
seemed  to  have  cast  their  shadows  on  the  ceiliugs ;  the 
carpets  were  like  snow,  in  which  blossoms,  in  rich  combina- 
tions, were  sinking.  There  all  was  delicate,  artistic  and 
suggestive.  Marble  Floras,  half  the  size  of  life,  with  one 
arm  full  of  roses,  held  back  the  draperies  which  fell  tent- 
like between  the  rooms.  Adown  the  inner  lace-folds, 
flowers  were  so  arranged  that  they  seemed  floating  in  frosty 
air. 

At  each  window  the  same  effect  was  produced.  At  one 
a  crouching  Venus  half  hid  herself  in  the  snow-fall  of  the 
curtains ;  at  another,  some  dancing-girl  peeped  roguishly 
out,  as  if  looking  for  a  partner. 

All  this  revealed  by  rainbows  of  light  trembling  down 
from  the  cut-glass  chandeliers,  formed  a  picture  which  fairly 
dazzled  Eva  Laurence,  who  stood  in  the  crimson  light  of 
the  back  room,  lost  and  wondering,  herself,  unconsciously, 
the  most  beautiful  object  present. 

Ross,  whose  genius  had  created  all  this,  looked  on  her 
smiling.  Xever  had  his  rare  gifts  wrought  out  greater 
happiness  to  himself.  It  was  like  leading  this  young  girl 
into  a  paradise  of  his  own  creation  ;  one,  too,  in  which  he 
resolved  that  she  should  remain  all  her  life,  if  it  so  pleased 
her. 

Mrs.  Carter  gave  one  glance  at  the  rooms,  another  to 
make  sure  that  they  were  still  unoccupied,  and  flung  her 
arms  about  Ross,  kissing  him  on  both  cheeks. 

"Let  them  search,  let  them  say  what  they  please,  they'll 
find  nothing  like  shoddy  here,"  she  said,  triumphantly. 

Mrs.  Carter  was  right     i^ever  was  the  union  of  wealth 


A      GLIMPSE      OF      FAIRY     LAND.  177 

and  genius  more  perfect  in  its  work.  The  guests  were 
taken  by  surprise.  Those  who  came  with  covert  sneers, 
forgot  criticism  in  admiration.  Everything  was  splendid, 
everything  complete. 

A  legion  of  fairies  could  have  devised  nothing  more 
perfect.  Xor  was  the  effect  diminished  when  the  host  and 
hostess  took  their  places ;  both  were  observant,  subdued  and 
careful.  Many  of  their  guests  had  become  suddenly  rich 
like  themselves.  The  war,  in  its  fearful  levelizatiou,  had 
given  them  plenty  of  company. 

If  anything,  Mrs.  Carter  was  a  little  over  zealous  in  her 
hospitality.  She  presented  Eva  Laurence  sometimes  more 
than  once  to  the  same  guest.  She  was  rather  ostentatious 
of  her  brother,  but  people  were  prepared  to  like  him  and 
forgave  that. 

The  crowd  grew  denser  and  more  brilliant  as  the  evening 
wore  on;  diamonds  shamed  the  light  from  the  chandeliers; 
the  glow  of  rich  colors  became  almost  oppressive.  The 
crowd  scattered  itself  across  the  broad  hall  and  into  the 
rooms  beyond.  In  one  there  was  dancing  and  such  music 
as  makes  the  blood  leap  and  thrill  in  young  veins.  Another 
closed  in  the  supper-tables,  where  servants  were  still  at 
work  like  bees  in  a  flower-garden.  The  hum  of  sweet 
voices,  the  chime  of  suppressed  laughter,  the  flash  of  some 
witty  reply  gave  zest  and  piquancy  to  the  scene. 

At  first  Eva  was  half-frightened.  She  felt  like  a  bird 
fluttering  in  a  gilded  cage.  The  scene  was  unlike  anything 
she  had  ever  witnessed,  and  her  own  share  in  it  seemed  like 
a  fraud.  More  than  once  she  was  presented  to  the  very 
persons  who  had  commanded  her  services  at  the  warerooms. 
Some  of  the  lace  floating  around  those  superb  dresses  had 
passed  through  her  hands.  She  felt  keenly  the  look  of 
surprise  with  which  she  was  occasionally  regarded,  and 
wished  herself  at  home. 

""What  can  it  mean?"  "Is  she  a  relative  ?  "  "How 
11 


178  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

strange!"  Eva  heard  these  low-toned  observations  fre- 
quently ;  her  sensitive  ear  was  keenly  on  the  alert  for  them. 
She  felt  alone  in  that  wilderness  of  people. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

FIGHTING    ANGUISH. 


Among  the  last  of  the  guests  was  Mrs.  Lambert,  with 
Ivon  and  Miss  Spicer.  The  lady  had  lost  something  of  her 
usual  graceful  repose,  and  her  eyes  shone  excitedly  under 
the  light  of  her  clustering  diamonds. 

Ross  was  speaking  in  a  low  voice  to  Eva  when  this  lady 
came  up  to  pay  her  respects  to  the  hostess.  An  expression 
of  tender  interest  was  on  his  face,  and  the  girl  answered  it 
with  a  grateful  smile.  The  woman's  heart  stopped  beating; 
a  deadly  faintness  seized  upon  her.  For  a  moment  she  went 
blind;  voices  greeted  heron  all  sides;  she  could  not  move 
through  a  throng  like  that  without  pausing  every  moment 
to  receive  the  homage  of  her  satellites.  But  this  evening 
she  passed  on,  hearing  nothing,  seeing  nothing  but  those 
two  faces. 

Still  the  habit  of  societ}T  was  upon  its  queen.  Her  salu- 
tations had  their  usual  grace,  she  spoke  blandty  to  the 
hostess  and  the  host,  bent  her  head  to  Ross,  and  ignored 
Eva  utterly. 

The  girl  blushed,  and  felt  the  pain  of  coming  tears,  for 
Ivon  Lambert  was  with  his  mother.  Would  he  too  repudi- 
ate her. 

No,  the  young  man  bent  before  her  as  if  she  had  been  a 
princess,  and  would  have  spoken,  but  Mrs.  Lambert,  who 
hancd  on  his  arm,  turned  abruptly  away.  He  felt  the 
shiver  that  ran  through  her  frame,  and  saw  the  diamonds 


FIGHTING      ANGUISH.  179 

on  her  bosom  heave  and  fall,  as  if  she  panted  for  breath. 
Others  noticed  how  pale  she  was,  and  detected  the  delicate 
shade  of  rouge,  thrown  into  relief  by  that  pallor — a  thing 
they  had  never  dreamed  of  before. 

I  von  led  the  lady  to  a  sofa,  around  which  her  friends 
thronged,  full  of  anxious  inquiries,  each  concealing  a  com- 
pliment. 

"It  was  nothing,"  the  lady  said,  her  foot  had  slipped  in 
getting  out  of  the  carriage,  and  gave  her  pain  for  a  moment. 
That  was  all. 

This  really  seemed  to  be  true.  The  lady  had  a  strong 
will  and  indomitable  pride.  The  blood  came  back  to  her 
face  fresh  and  vivid,  her  eyes  grew  bright  as  stars.  She, 
who  seldom  went  beyond  a  smile,  laughed  now  a  low,  sweet 
laugh,  that  penetrated  the  crowd  with-  an  under  cadence 
that  thrilled  it.  No  young  girl  ever  felt  the  storm  of  jeal- 
ousy like  that.  The  maturity  of  passion  was  there,  break- 
ing through  all  power  of  concealment. 

The  crowd  did  not  care  to  search  for  the  cause  of  this 
brilliant  animation,  or  some  one  there  might  have  read  that 
proud  heart,  in  all  its  fire  and  pain,  and  she  could  not  have 
helped  it.  As  it  was,  her  lips  had  never  been  so  eloquent, 
her  figure  so  gracefully  impressive.  The  circle  around  her 
was  lost  in  admiration. 

Miss  Spicer  seized  upon  young  Lambert  in  her  usual 
abrupt  fashion. 

"Come!"  she  said,  "madame  has  no  need  of  us,  she  has 
become  a  fixed  star,  and  I'm  tired  to  death  of  revolving. 
Mrs.  Carter  has  got  to  introduce  me  to  the  great  genius. 
Everybody  says  he  is  so  charming,  so  distinguished  and 
inaccessible — none  of  the  girls  can  get  a  smile  from  him; 
but  I  shall,  you  may  bet  high  on  that !  " 

Ivon  suffered  himself  to  be  dragged  back  to  the  great 
drawing-room;  for  he  hoped  now  to  speak  with  Eva;  but 
just  as  he  reached  the  place  where  she  had  been  standing. 


180  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

Ross  led  her  into  the  crowd.     Miss  Spicer  saw  her  intended 
prey  move  off,  and  began  to  reproach  Ivou. 

"  There  he  goes  !  and  that  creature  on  his  arm  !  I  won- 
der if  he  wants  a  shawl  tried  on.  Such  innovations !  As 
if  the  Carters  hadn't  enough  of  a  pull  to  get  themselves 
into  society,  but  they  must  attempt  to  empty  Broadway  of 
its  shop-girls  !  *' 

By  this  time  Miss  Spicer  was  near  the  hostess,  whom 
she  addressed  with  vigor. 

"  Mrs.  Carter,  I  have  got  such  a  quarrel  with  you.  "When 
am  I  to  be  introduced  to  that  brother  of  yours  ?  Can't  you 
see  that  I'm  half  in  love  with  him  already;  a  dozen  of  us 
quarreling  which  shall  be  first — genius  is  so  uncommon  and 
so  enticing.  Is  it  true,  Mrs.  Carter,  that  you  mean  to  give 
him  lots  of  money?  People  say  so;  but  that's  of  no  con- 
sequence to  such  of  us  as  can  afford  to  do  as  we  please — for 
genius,  after  all,  isn't  half  so  common  as  money.  But  when 
am  I  to  be  introduced  ?  " 

"Oh!"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  delighted.  "If  you  had  only 
come  a  minute  sooner!  He  jutst  went  away  with  Miss  Lau- 
rence." 

w  Oh,  yes  !  I  saw  it.  That  shop-girl — I  beg  ten  thousand 
pardons!  but  truth  is  truth — has  carried  him  off!  Now 
tell  me,  how  did  she  happen  to  get  here  ?  Lots  of  us  girls 
are  dying  to  know." 

Mrs.  Carter  drew  herself  up  with  some  degree  of  dignity. 

"If  you  speak  of  Miss  Laurence,"  she  said,  "her  father 
was  my  brother's  old  friend." 

"An  old  friend?  Why,  he  was  nothing  but  a  policeman. 
I  have  taken  pains  to  inquire." 

"  Still  he  was  an  honest  and  honorable  man." 

"  Every  inch  of  him,"  said  Carter,  stoutly.  "  My  roof 
covers  no  better  man  to-night." 

"As  for  the  young  lady,"  joined  in  Mrs.  Carter,  taking 
fresh  courage,  "she  is  likely  to  become  nearer  to  us  than  a 
friend.     Isn't  that  so,  Mr.  Carter?" 


MR.      AND      MRS.      SMITH.  181 

Carter  hesitated  a  moment,  feeling  as  if  his  wife  had  en- 
trapped him  iuto  a  premature  compliance  with  her  wishes; 
but  he  spoke  at  last,  resolutely  enough. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  C,  there  is  no  harm  in  saying  that,  if  Ross 
stands  his  chance  for  a  share  of  my  property,  the  young 
lady  will  enjoy  it  equally  with  him." 

Miss  Spicer  pursed  up  her  lips  till  they  almost  emitted  a 
whistle. 

"  So,  that's  the  way  the  wind  blows,"  she  said.  "Wont 
it  be  fun  to  tell  the  girls !  " 

"  Miss  Spicer,  we  are  keeping  Mrs.  Carter's  guests  from 
her,"  said  Ivon,  observing  a  couple  fighting  their  way 
through  the  crowd. 

"Just  like  me,  always  in  somebody's  path  !  "  exclaimed 
the  girl,  drawing  back,  but  still  keeping  near  the  hostess. 
tl  Mercy  on  me  !  who  are  those  people  ?  Stupendous  !  Do 
look  ! " 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

MR.     AND     MRS.     SMITH. 


The  two  people  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  she  in  the 
glory  and  amplitude  of  her  moire  antique,  with  the  yellow 
feather  in  her  hair — an  addition  Kate  Gorman  had  insisted 
on  with  spirit,  declaring  that  no  mistress  of  hers  was  to  be 
put  down  by  them  Laurence  girls  while  she  was  to  the  fore. 

So  with  her  feather  all  afloat,  and  her  dress  sweeping  out 
gorgeously,  Mrs.  Smith  came  up  and  dropped  a  voluminous 
curtsy  before  her  old  friend,  who  stooped  down,  like  a 
queen,  and,  with  both  hands,  lifted  the  grocer's  wife  out  of 
the  depths  of  her  obeisance.  Then  Carter  and  Smith  shook 
hands,  and  said,  "How  do  you  do?"  with  solemn  gravity, 
while    their   wives    dropped   into    conversation     about   the 


182  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

children  at  home ;  and  Miss  Spicer  hovered  near,  taking 
venomous  mental  notes. 

"Oh,  my!  this  is  fun  alive!"  said  the  yonng  lady.  "I 
only  wish  your  mother  had  been  here  to  see  that  curtsy. 
"Wasn't  it  sublime  ?  I"ve  seen  girls  making  cheeses  before 
this,  but  a  grown  woman,  and  stout  at  that,  is  excruciating! 
Do  take  me  away,  Ivon,  or  I  shall  do  something  dreadful ! n 

Young  Lambert  gladly  led  the  girl  back  to  his  mother, 
who  still  occupied  her  place  on  the  sofa,  and  had  increased 
her  circle  of  admirers.  Miss  Spicer  took  a  vacant  place  by 
her  friend,  who  was  talking  brilliantly. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Lambert,  do  stop  one  minute,  and  hear  what 
I've  got  to  tell  you,';  whispered  the  young  lady,  impatient 
to  impart  her  news. 

Mrs.  Lambert  turned  from  the  gay  throng  around  her 
and  listened. 

u  He  is  going  to  marry  her ! '"' 

<•'  He  ?     Who  ?  " 

The  color  left  Mrs.  Lambert's  lips  as  she  asked  the  ques- 
tion, and  a  cold  shiver  ran  over  her. 

■•  Who?  Why  Ross,  the  genius— Mrs.  Carter's  brother. 
He  is  going  to  marry  that  Laurence  girl.  Mrs.  Carter 
told  me  so  herself." 

"  She  told  you  so  ?  " 

The  woman's  voice  was  low  and  hoarse ;  those  who  had 
listened  to  her  a  minute  before  would  not  have  known  it. 

•■Yes.  and  her  husband  repeated  it;  he  is  going  to  give 
them  all  his  money  in  the  end.     Isn't  it  disgusting  !  " 

"  Did  they  tell  you  this  '.'  " 

"Indeed  they  did.  He  is  with  her  now.  I  saw  them 
:  toward  the  dancing-room." 

Mrs.  Lambert  arose,  took  the  arm  of  a  gentleman  nearest 
her.  and  moved  toward  the  da:  ere.  She  did  not  speak, 
could  not,  in  fact,  for  a  band  seemed  tightening  about  her 
throat. 


MR.      AND      MRS.      SMITH.  183 

Over  the  black-walnut  floor,  with  its  mosaic  border  of 
satin-wood  circling  the  room  a  yard  deep,  a  maze  of  dancers 
were  whirling  in  and  out,  swaying  gracefully  to  the  music, 
as  young  trees  bend  to  the  wind.  Among  them  was  Ross 
and  Eva  Laurence,  her  hand  was  upon  his  shoulder,  his  arm 
circled  her  waist,  yet  scarcely  touched  it.  He  was  still  in  the 
prime  of  manly  beauty,  and  the  girl  was  loveliness  itself. 
She  was  dancing  with  all  the  spirit  and  grace  of  one  to 
whom  the  exercise  was  a  delightful  novelty  ;  and  he  seemed 
to  feel  the  glow  of  her  happiness  in  every  nerve  of  his  body. 
When  they  rested,  he  stooped  over  her  lovingly,  and  smiled 
as  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  his.  If  ever  exquisite  tenderness 
softened  a  human  face,  the  woman  who  watched  his  so 
eagerly,  s.aw  it  there. 

Oh  !  how  she  hated  that  girl !  With  what  bitter  despair 
she  gazed  on  the  man. 

A  sort  of  fascination  possessed  Mrs.  Lambert ;  she  linger- 
ed in  the  room,  and  seemed  absorbed  by  a  scene  that  had 
long  since  ceased  to  interest  her;  but  her  observation  was 
fixed  on  one  couple ;  she  saw  every  look,  watched  every 
motion  with  a  strange  gleam  in  her  eyes,  and  an  ominous 
compression  of  her  lips. 

At  last  the  music  ceased,  and  Ross  was  leading  his  part- 
ner to  a  seat,  when  Ivon  Lambert  came  up  and  claimed  her. 
Then  her  face  changed  like  a  rose  suddenly  struck  by  the 
sunshine  ;  a  delicate  glow  swept  over  it ;  her  eyes  drooped 
when  his  hand  touched  her  waist;  she  leaned  toward  him 
as  a  flower  bends  on  its  stalk. 

Mrs.  Lambert  saw  this  and  drew  a  deep  breath. 
"Youth,"  she  whispered  to  herself,  "turns  to  youth.  I 
will  not  believe  it." 

Mrs.  Lambert  turned  and  saw  that  Ross  stood  beside  her. 
She  drew  her  hand  from  the  gentleman  who  had  led  her 
to  the  room,  bent  her  head  in  dismissal,  and  touched  Ross 
upon  the  arm. 


184  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

Did  he  shrink,  or  was  that  a  thrill  of  pleasure  tnat  fol- 
lowed her  touch  ?  She  would  have  given  the  world  to 
know.  Her  hand  grew  bolder  and  laid  itself  on  his  arm. 
He  yielded  to  its  pressure,  and  moved  away. 

In  a  wing  of  the  mansion  was  a  conservatory  full  of 
flowering  plants,  and  lighted  with  lamps  that  swung  to  and 
fro  among  the  flowers,  like  mammoth  pearls  all  on  fire. 
Towards  this  place  Mrs.  Lambert  led  her  companion. 


«  ■»»»—>- 


CHAPTER   XL. 

OLD  LOVERS. 

They  stood  under  the  shade  of  a  tall  drooping  tree,  star- 
red with  soft,  yellow  blossoms,  that  rose  out  of  a  little  jungle 
of  tropical  plants  in  one  end  of  the  conservatory.  Around 
them  was  the  soft  glow  of  moonlight,  literally  shed  from 
alabaster  lamps. 

From  the  distance  came  subdued  bursts  of  music,  and  close 
by  a  fountain  sent  its  diamond  drops  through  the  neighbor- 
ing blossoms,  and  their  bell-like  tinkle  souuded  clear  and  sil- 
very as  they  fell  upon  the  tesselated  marble  of  the  floor. 

Of  all  places  on  earth,  this  was  the  brightest  for  a  meet- 
ing of  lovers.  But  these  two  persons  had  grey  hairs  upon 
their  temples,  and  a  look  of  such  unutterable  pain  in  their 
faces  that  all  this  perfume,  and  the  musical  fall  of  water- 
drops,  seemed  but  a  mockery  of  something  that  had  been. 

"  You  wished  to  speak  with  me,"  said  Herman  Ross  in  a 
low,  sad  voice.     "  I  think  we  are  alone  here." 

"  Yes,  Herman  !  " 

The  man  started.  Something  in  the  tone  of  Mrs.  Lam- 
bert's voice,  as  she  uttered  the  name,  sent  a  pang  through 
his  whole  system.  Still  he  seemed  calm,  and  his  voice 
changed  but  little  when  he  spoke  again. 


OLD     LOVERS.  185 

"  Is  there  anything  you  wish  to  tell  me  ?" 

Ross  asked  this  question  earnestly,  and  his  eyes  dwelt  on 
the  troubled  face  of  the  woman  with  almost  imploring  earn- 
estness. 

"Anything  I  wish  to  tell?"  repeated  the  lady,  with  a 
startled  look.  "What  could  I  have,  that  you  do  not 
already  know  ?     I — I  wished  rather  to  ask  a  question  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  am  here  and  have  nothing  to  conceal." 

<;  Ah  !  how  coldly  you  speak,  Herman!  " 

"  How  else  should  I  speak,  Mrs.  Lambert  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know — I  ought  not  to  care  ;  but  I  do — I  do  !  " 

The  woman  spoke  with  anguish ;  she  did  not  weep,  but 
there  was  something  more  thrilling  than  tears  in  her  voice. 

"  There  was  a  time  when  I  believed  you,"  said  Ross. 

"  That  was  when  I  had  a  right  to  ask.  Then  you  would 
have  believed  me  against  the  world." 

"  Yes,  I  would  have  believed  you  against  the  whole 
world." 

"  But  now " 

"Now  I  believe  nothing,  without  proof." 

"  But  I  will  believe  you,  asking  no  better  proof  than 
your  bare  word." 

"In  what?" 

The  woman  hesitated.  In  her  first  passion  she  had 
thought  it  an  easy  thing  to  question  him  ;  but  his  chilling 
calm  daunted  her. 

"  Herman,  tell  me,  and,  oh  !  let  it  be  truth  !  Do  you  love 
that  girl  ?  " 

The  woman  clasped  her  hands,  and  wrung  them  together 
as  she  spoke.  Ross  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  grave 
silence. 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  Miss  Laurence." 

"  Yes,  I  mean  her." 

"  You  ask  if  I  love  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes !     Oh,  tell  me  !  " 


186  THE     REIGNING     BELLE. 

Ross  paused  a  moment,  but  be  did  not  remove  bis  eyes 
from  the  woman's  face. 

n  Will  you  never  speak?  "  she  cried,  passionately. 

"  You  ask  if  I  love  this  girl,  and  I  answer.  Is  there  any 
reason  against  it?  " 

"  You  do  !     You  do  !     And  almost  confess  it  to  me  ?  " 

"To  you,  above  all  other  persons,  I  deny  any  right  to 
question  me." 

"Right!  I  have  no  rights;  only  it  would  be  merciful  if 
you  would  set  my  mind  at  rest." 

"But  I  do  not  wish  to  answer." 

"Oh,  God  help  me!  This  is  hard!"  cried  the  woman, 
looking  wildly  around,  as  if  a  power  of  help  lay  in  the 
beautiful  shrubs. 

"Is  this  conscience?"  said  Ross,  bending  bis  eyes 
sternly  upon  her. 

"  Conscience  !     Conscience !  " 

"Madam,  once  for  all,  if  you  have  anything  to  con- 
fess  " 

"  To  confess  !  " 

Mrs.  Lambert's  face  was  white  as  snow ;  her  lips  grew 
cold,  and  her  voice  failed. 

"Confess,  or  confide.  I  am  willing  to  use  the  softer 
term,"  answered  Ross,  touched,  in  spite  of  himself,  by  those 
contracted  features. 

"But  I  have  nothing  to  confess,  or  confide — nothing!" 

Ross  turned  away,  bitterly  disappointed.  Something  he 
had  evidently  hoped  to  learn  from  the  lad}*,  which  she  either 
did  not  understand,  or  purposely  avoided. 

"  I  ask  you  a  question,  vital  to  us  both,  and  you  refuse  to 
answer/'  said  the  lady,  still  clasping  her  hands,  where  the 
jewels  Bhone,  and  cut  into  the  tender  flesh  unnoticed,  in 
her  agony  of  impatience. 

"First,"   Baid  K">s,  sternly,   "I  will  ask  you  a  question." 

'•  Then,  you  will  answer  mine?  Ask  it!  Ask  it!"  cried 
the  lady. 


IVON      AND      EVA.  187 

Eoss  gave  a  glance  around,  as  if  fearing  that  they  were 
not  quite  alone,  then  he  took  the  woman's  two  hands  in  his, 
drew  her,  not  unwillingly,  toward  him,  and  whispered  a  few 
words.  She  uttered  a  low  cry,  wrung  her  hands  from  his 
clasp,  and  stood  mute  and  pale,  gazing  on  him  with  a  wild 
gleam  in  her  eyes,  that  shone  like  madness. 

"Are  you  mad,  or  am  I?"  she  exclaimed  at  last,  press- 
ing both  trembling  hands  on  her  bosom. 

"  The  time  of  madness  for  me  has  long  since  passed," 
said  Eoss ;  "  but  j7ou  have  not  answered  my  question." 

"Answered  your  question!  No,  then!  No,  no!  A 
thousand  times  no  !     I — I " 

Here  the  lady  fell  to  trembling  violently ;  for  there  was  a 
look  of  unbelief  in  the  man's  face,  that  struck  her  to  the 
heart,  and  he  turned  to  leave  her  in  silence.  Then  the  old 
idea  shot  through  her  brain,  and  she  approached  him  closer. 

"  I  have  answered  you.  Now  answer  me.  Do  you  love 
this  girl,  Eva  Laurence  !  " 

"  yes ! " 

Eoss  spoke  in  a  low  distinct  voice,  which  scarcely  rose 
above  the  fall  of  water-drops  in  the  fountain ;  but  it  seemed 
to  fill  the  whole  conservatory.  The  flowers,  the  water,  and 
the  moon-like  lamps,  had  heard  it  with  herself,  and  seeme'd 
to  rejoice  over  it — triumph  over  her.  The  last  hope  went 
out  from  her  heart  then,  and  she  believed  herself  to  be 
dying. 


CHAPTEE  XLL 

IVON    AND    EVA. 


A  handsomer  couple  than  I  von  Lambert  and  Eva  Lau- 
rence never  measured  perfect  happiness  to  music.  Tall, 
graceful,  thrilled  with  a  glow  of  uuspokeu  love,  they  fairly 


188  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

floated  through  the  ball-room,  which  was  soon  crowded  with 
a  circle  of  curious  admirers. 

The  beauty  of  this  unknown  girl  had  created  a  wide 
sensation  among  Mr.  Carters  guests — a  sensation  intensified 
by  the  hints  and  jeers  flung  out  by  Miss  Spicer,  who  felt 
herself  relieved  of  a  rival,  and,  next  to  conquest,  loved  that 
species  of  piquant  gossip  that  approaches  a  scandal.  That 
young  lady  had  been  busy  as  a  humming-bird,  in  a  wild 
trumpet  vine,  circulating  all  that  she  knew  of  Era  Laurence 
— her  origin,  her  occupation,  and  her  engagement  to  the 
greatest  genius  just  then  in  fashion. 

All  this  time  Eva,  unconscious  of  the  general  interest, 
was  dancing  more  than  was  proper  for  a  betrothed  young 
lady,  with  Ivon  Lambert. 

Who  was  this  girl?  Was  she  really  engaged?  Had 
she,  in  fact,  on  her  very  first  appearance,  enthralled  the  two 
men  most  sought  after  in  fashionable  circles  ?  A  shop-girl, 
with  that  air  of  grace  and  refinement?  Impossible! 
That,  at  least,  must  be  one  of  Miss  Spicer's  canards.  Why, 
in  every  respect,  this  girl  had  all  the  qualifications  of  a 
Reigning  Belle. 

m  These  were  only  a  few  of  the  whispered  comments  that 
went  around  the  circle,  as  these  young  people  moved 
harmoniously  among  the  dancers,  unconscious  of  the  general 
attention  bestowed  upon  them. 

In  the  pause  of  the  dance,  Ivon  noticed  the  cluster  of 
flowers  that  bloomed  upon  his  partner's  bosom.  Eva 
blushed  when  she  saw  where  his  eyes  were  directed. 

"You  accepted  them,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "without 
knowing  how  many  wild  thoughts  were  bound  up  with  the 
blossoms.  Had  you  dreamed  of  those  thoughts,  I  fear  my 
violets  would  not  have  rested  on  that  bosom  now."' 

Eva  looked  down  at  her  flowers,  that  rose  and  fell 
suddenly,  as  if  they  had  been  cast  on  the  snowy  crest  of  a 
wave,  then  she  lifted  her  e}'es  to  his — a  single  glance,  and 
the  white  lids  drooped  again. 


I V  0  N     AND     EVA.  189 

Ivon  smiled,  and  his  ejes  flashed.  He  required  no  better 
answer  than  that  one  look.  His  arm  stole  around  her  waist 
again.  Now  the  thrill  of  assured  sympathy  lent  them 
wings.  ISTo  two  birds  in  mid  heaven  were  ever  more  alone, 
or  gave  themselves  up  so  entirely  to  the  grace  of  motion. 
They  seemed  literallj-  floating  on  the  music. 

When  the  band  stopped,  Eva  drew  a  deep,  deep  sigh — 
the  abrupt  silence  dragged  her  out  of  heaven  so  suddenly. 

Earlier  in  the  evening  Ivon  had  seen  the  glow  of  flowers, 
amid  softly-shaded  lamps,  in  a  vista,  from  the  great  draw- 
ing-room, and  led  Eva  gently  that  way.  As  for  the  girl, 
the  whole  scene  was  fairy-land  to  her,  and  all  places  alike, 
while  he  was  by  her  side.  She  was  quite  unconscious  of 
the  admiration,  the  gossip,  and  conjectures  that  followed 
her,  as  she  was  led  through  the  crowd;  equally  unmindful 
of  the  vast  social  distance  which  lay  between  her  position, 
and  that  of  the  young  man  whose  attentions  had  drawn  all 
eyes  upon  her. 

Adam  never  led  Eve  into  a  lovelier  nook  of  Paradise, 
than  the  little  world  of  flowers  in  which  the  girl  at  last 
found  herself.  Everything  was  quiet  there,  even  the  soft 
tinkle  and  low,  mellow  sound  of  water  drops,  as  they  rained 
over  the  marble  floor,  and  pattered  on  the  broad-leaved 
plants  that  floated  on  the  fountain. 

The  two  stood  together  in  silence.  The  sound  of  a  voice, 
even  in  its  lowest  love-tones,  would  have  broken  up  the  ex- 
quisite harmony  of  the  place.  Her  hand  lay  upon  his  arm; 
he  took  it  in  his  own,  and  held  it  tenderly,  as  if  it  had  been 
a  flower,  and  looked  into  her  downcast  face,  which  had  been 
etherealized  in  the  lamp  light. 

"  Eva ! " 

His  voice  was  low  and  deep,  scarcely  rising  above  the 
sweet  noise  of  the  fountain. 

Eva  looked  up  suddenly ;  then  her  eyes  fell  to  the  marble 
floor,  where  the  red  petals  of  an  over-ripe  rose  had  dropped 
and  lay  glowing  like  rubies. 


190  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"Eva,  can  you  imagine — bave  you  ever  dreamed  how 
much  I  love  you  ?  n 

Her  hand  trembled  in  his.  She  caught  one  of  the  red 
rose-leaves,  as  it  was  quivering  downward,  and  dropped  it 
again,  with  a  sigh  of  infinite  happiness.  Another  leaf 
lodged  upon  her  lip,  and  for  an  instant  trembled  there, 
scarcely  redder  or  sweeter  than  the  mouth  it  touched.  Ivan 
stooped  down,  and  with  his  lips  gathered  the  leaf  from  here. 
She  made  no  resistance  ;  but  drew  closer  to  him,  and  the 
clasp  of  her  fingers  grew  warm  and  tender. 

"  One  word,  Eva  ;  only  one.     May  I  love  you  ?  ** 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his.  The  light  of  stars  seemed 
quivering  in  them. 

"  How  can  you  ask  me  ?  Have  I  not  permitted  it  ai- 
re ad  3r  ?  n 

The  young  man  drew  her  gently  to  his  bosom,  and  laid 
his  cheek  to  hers,  as  doves  creep  together  in  a  nest. 

"  And  you  love  me  ?  " 

"A  thousand  times  better  than  myself,"  she  answered. 

"And  some  day,  not  long  from  this,  you  will  be  my 
wife  ?  " 


CHAPTER    XLTI. 

A    WOMAN    TRANSFIGURED. 

His  wife.  Eva  had  not  thought  of  that.  It  had  been 
enough  that  he  loved  her,  and  she  loved  him.  Now  an  idea 
of  the  future  flashed  through  her  happiness,  and  she  remem- 
bered how  far  they  two  were  apart.  His  wife!  The  holy 
word  thrilled  her  from  head  to  foot  with  unutterable  bliss, 
mingled  with  apprehension. 

"Ah!"  she  said,  '"what  a  Btrange,  sweet  word  it  is. 
How  much  it  means ;  how  impossible  that  I  should  bear  it." 


A      WOMAN      TRANSFIGURED.  191 

a  It  is  the  sweetest  possibility  on  earth,  my  Eva ;  one 
that  I  have  had  in  my  heart  of  hearts  since  we  first  met." 

"How  strange,"  murmured  the  girl.  "But  you  are  so 
fe:;rless.     I  never  dared  look  so  far." 

"  But  now,  my  girl,  now  !  " 

Ivon  threw  his  arms  around  her  drooping  figure,  and 
kissed  her  with  passionate  warmth. 

A  woman  had  been  lying  insensible  back  of  a  little  jun- 
gle of  broad-leaved  tropical  plants,  out  of  which  a  slender 
tree  rose  to  the  glass  roof.  The  coldness  of  the  marble, 
and  some  stray  drops  that  reached  her  from  the  fountain, 
brought  her  back  to  life,  when  she  heard  the  low  murmur  of 
voices  close  by,  and  arose  to  leave  the  conservatory. 

The  place  where  Ivon  and  Eva  stood  was  sheltered  from 
sight  by  the  plants  that  concealed  this  lady;  but  through 
the  leaves  she  saw  the  girl's  face,  bathed  in  blushes,  as  it 
escaped  from  the  first  kisses  of  love  —  and  the  look  of 
intense  happiness  that  flushed  it,  stung  her  to  the  soul. 
One  man  alone  was  in  her  thoughts,  and  his  supposed  pres- 
ence there,  while  she  lay  stricken  lifeless,  by  the  cruel  truth 
he  had  told  her,  was  maddening. 

A  stir  among  the  plants  drew  Eva's  attention  that  way. 
She  saw  a  pair  of  white  arms  flung  upward,  on  which  great 
jewels  flashed  in  the  moonlight  of  the  lamps,  and  shrunk 
away  from  Ivon,  passing  to  the  other  side  of  the  fountain, 
startled  and  ashamed. 

Before  Ivon  could  speak  or  follow  her,  Mrs.  Lambert 
rushed  by  the  fountain,  and,  seizing  Eva  by  the  arm,  looked 
fiercely  into  her  face. 

'•  Never,  never,  while  you  and  I  live,  shall  yon  marry 
that  man  !  Girl,  remember  that  I  have  warned  you  ! 
Speak  to  him — look  at  him  again  at  your  peril!  Some 
things  are  impossible — this  is  one.  Turn  those  eyes  from 
my  face — never  dare  to  look  at  me  again." 

Like  a  storm,  the  woman  had  burst  upon  Eva ;  her  face 


192  THE      REIGNING     BELLE. 

was  as  white  as  snow ;  her  colorless  lips  trembled.  The 
diamonds  quivering  with  fire  on  her  throat  and  head,  were 
less  brilliant  than  her  wild,  fierce  eyes.  Before  Eva  could 
speak,  or  Ivan  move,  she  had  swept  out  of  the  conservatory, 
without  casting  a  look  on  the  young  man. 

"It — it  is  3"our  mother  !"  said  Eva,  as  Ivon  came  toward 
her;  so  astonished  by  this  outburst  in  a  woman  whose  self- 
control  had  been  perfect  all  the  years  he  had  known  her, 
that  surprise  had  kept  him  motionless. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "it  is  my  mother;  but  so  changed,  so 
fearfully  transfigured,  that  I  scarcely  recognized  her.  She 
seemed  to  threaten  you." 

"  She  did  threaten  me  ;  her  ej'es  were  fierce  with  hate. 
What  have  I  done  that  she  should  assail  me  so?" 

'•  What  have  the  angels  done?  I  do  not  understand  this, 
Eva.  It  is  unlike  Mrs.  Lambert,  who  is  usually  so  proud 
and  cold,  scarcel}7  deigning  to  express  her  own  wishes." 

"  She  heard  all  we  said,  and  it  drove  her  wild.  Oh,  her 
face  was  terrible  !  " 

"  I  scarcely  knew  it.  If  she  heard  all,  it  was  the  sud- 
denness that  overwhelmed  her.  But  she  is  generous. 
"When  you  are  m}'  wife " 

"Ah  !"  said  Eva,  drawing  away  from  him.  "How  is  it 
possible?     I  have  no  right  here." 

"  Why  have  you  no  right,  Eva?  " 

"The  poor  have  no  rights  in  a  place  like  this,"  answered 
the  girl,  looking  wildly  around.     "I  have  been  dreaming!" 

"  It  will  be  your  fault,  and  my  eternal  misfortune,  if  this 
dream  does  not  last  for  life,"  said  Ivon. 

Eva  shook  her  head.  Her  brief  trance  of  happiness  was 
broken  up. 

"  But  I  will  have  it  so,"  persisted  Ivon,  passionately. 
"  On  all  the  earth  there  is  not  another  woman  who  shall  be 
my  wife." 

"Let  us  go  now,"  answered  Eva,  sadly.     "Your  mother 


A     WOMAN     TRANSFIGURED.  193 

will  be  watching.  I  should  have  remembered  her  look, 
when  she  first  saw  me  standing  by  Mrs.  Carter." 

"  But  for  that  I  might  not  have  said  here  and  now,  that 
no  man  living  ever  loved  a  woman  as  I  love  you,"  said 
Ivon. 

Eva  lifted  her  eyes;  they  were  full  of  tears. 

<•  I  shall  never  forget  that  you  wished  to  atone  for  her 
injustice." 

•'Atone  !  Girl,  I  love  you  devotedly,  madly.  She  knows 
it.     I  have  told  her  so.     And  you  love  me." 

Eva  dashed  the  tears  from  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  I  love  you  so  well  that  nothing  shall  induce  me  to 
degrade  you,  by  an  unsuitable  or  unauthorized  marriage. 
Your  mother " 

"  My  mother  is  dead  long  ago !  This  lady  was  my 
father's  wife ;  kind  and  generous  as  any  real  mother  could 
be,  till  now.  I  have  never  wished  to  dispute  her  authority ; 
but  here  it  must  end  !  " 

"  To  that,  no  act  of  mine  shall  tempt  you,"  said  Eva. 
"  I  see  now  how  vain  and  unwise  it  was  to  accept  this 
invitation." 

"Oh,  Eva,  how  wild  and  unkind  all  this  is!  A  moment 
ago  I  was  supremely  happy.  Now  the  violence  of  a  lady, 
who  has,  in  fact,  no  authority  over  us,  is  enough  to  turn  you 
against  me." 

"No,"  said  Eva;  "if  she  had  not  aroused  me  with  such 
cruel  violence,  it  must  have  come  to  the  same  thing.  I 
have  no  part  in  this  scene,  no  place  among  the  more  fortu- 
nate women  who  grace  it." 

"  But  you  have  a  place  in  my  heart,  Eva." 

"I  know  it;  but  that  is  a  misfortune  which  I  have 
brought  upon  you." 

"  A  misfortune  !  It  is  my  glory.  Understand  me,  Eva. 
From  this  night,  you  are  my  betrothed  wife.  Nothing  shall 
separate  us ;  no,  not  even  your  own  proud  will." 

12 


1  fU  THE     REIGNING      BELLS. 

Eva  smiled,  but  the  sruile  was  more  pathetic  than  tears. 

"  Ah,  if  my  will  were  all !  " 

"That,  going  with  me,  girl,  no  power  on  earth  shall  reach 
us." 

His  courage  and  his  ardor  failed  to  inspire  her.  She  had 
been  cruelly  wounded,  and  the  pride  she  was  scarcely 
conscious  of,  armed  her  against  him. 

"Let  me  go  now,"  she  said,  preparing  to  leave  the 
conservatory. 

'•  Not  till  you  have  promised ;  not  till  your  dear  lips  have 
once  answered  mine,"  he  replied,  straining  her  to  his  bosom 
again,  spite  of  her  breathless  protest.  "  Leave  everything 
to  me.  Have  no  fear  that  your  womanly  dignity  will  suffer, 
or  that  I  shall  yield  one  jot  of  the  independence  that 
belongs  to  me." 

Eva  had  no  heart  to  answer.  She  withdrew  herself 
gently  from  Ins  arms,  and  moved  toward  the  door,  pale  and 
trembling;  for,  to  her,  it  was  a  final  parting.  He  followed 
her  haughty  and  resolute. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

HERSELF    AiiAI.V. 


Eva  took  refuge  with  Mrs.  Carter,  who  still  maintained 
her  past  in  the  drawing-room. 

"Are  you  tired,  Eva?  Has  anything  happened  to 
di -tress  you  ?" 

Eva  tunnd,  and  saw  Mr.  E&OSS,  whose  low,  fatherly  voice 
was  like  a  balm  to  her  wounded  self-love. 

■■  I  am  a  little  tired,  and  all  this  bewilders  me,'5  Eva 
re]. lied,  lifting  her  troubled  eyes  to  his.  "  Ah,  Mr.  Eoss,  I 
have  no  real  place  here." 


HERSELF      AGAIN. 


195 


"  That  is  to  be  decided,"  said  Eoss.  "  Come  with  me  to 
the  supper-room.     A  glass  of  wine  will  do  no  harm  here." 

Ross  was  about  to  lead  her  away,  when  she  uttered  a  faint 
exclamation,  and  clung  nervously  to  his  arm.  Mrs.  Lambert 
was  making  her  way  toward  the  hostess,  and  the  very  sight 
of  her  sent  the  proud  blood  to  Eva's  cheek. 

Proud,  graceful,  and  entirely  herself  again,  Mrs.  Lambert 
swept  up  to  Mrs.  Carter.  She  had  drained  more  than  one 
glass  of  champagne,  at  the  supper-table,  where  the  sparkle 
of  her  wit,  and  the  hitherto  unknown  sound  of  her  laugh- 
ter, had  entranced  and  dazzled  her  admirers. 

"  Never,"  they  all  said,  "  had  the  queen  of  fashion  shone 
out  with  such  wonderful  splendor.  Something  must  have 
inspired  her." 

Something  had  inspired  her,  more  potent  than  admira- 
tion, more  fiery  than  wine;  the  burning  pangs  of  jealousy, 
added  to  a  cruel  defeat,  where  she  had  staked  her  very  soul. 
Smiling,  bland,  and  wonderfully  beautiful,  she  came  up  to 
say  farewell.  Eoss  did  not  attempt  to  retreat,  but  waited 
her  approach  with  dignified  calmness.  He  felt  Eva's  hand 
tremble  on  his  arm,  but  could  not  comprehend  the  cause. 

Mrs.  Lambert  did  not  attempt  to  ignore  the  girl  then, 
but  passed  from  the  hostess,  and  took  leave  of  her  with  iron- 
ical politeness,  which  was  extended  to  Eoss,  who  received  it 
with  a  grave  bow.  For  once  in  many  years  the  lady  had 
given  way  to  overwhelming  passion ;  but  her  will  was 
strong,  and  habit  aided  her  in  concealing  the  pangs  that 
had  stricken  her  lifeless  in  the  conservatory. 

But  the  restraint  she  had  forced  upon  herself  was  beyond 
endurance.  She  neither  waited  for  Ivon  or  Miss  Spicer, 
but  accepted  the  first  offered  arm,  went  through  the  ceremo- 
ny of  leave-taking  with  fortitude,  though  the  two  persons 
she  most  loved  and  hated,  stood  by  the  hostess,  and  gayly 
bade  good-night  to  her  escort,  as  she  entered  her  carriage. 
When  once  alone,  the  passions,  so  long  held  in  restraint, 


I'."'1"!  THE      REIGNING"    BELLE. 

broke  forth  vehemently.  The  woman  wrong  her  hands, 
fell  upon  her  knees,  and,  burying  her  face  in  the  silken 
cushions  of  her  carriage,  sobbed,  moaned,  and  writhed,  with 
a  force  of  anguish  that  threatened  her  very  life. 

Meantime,  Miss  Spicer  had  found  Ivon  in  the  crowd 
and  captured  him  at  once. 

"  Where  on  earth  is  Mrs.  Lambert?  I  have  been  search- 
ing and  searching  for  her.  She  was  at  the  supper-table 
one  minute;  but  before  I  could  fight  my  way  to  her.  she 
wp.s  gone.  One  might  as  well  have  no  chaperon  at  all,  as 
wander  about  in  this  wild  fashion."' 

"  We  shall  soon  find  my  mother,"  said  Ivon. 

"Yes,  by  the  crowd  that  surrounds  her.  I  wonder  if  she 
will  ever  give  up  her  place  as  a  reigning  belle?  It  looks 
to-night  as  if  that  shop-girl  were  going  to  step  in  !  Ten 
thousand  pardons  ;  I  forget  that  she  was  a  special  friend  of 
yours." 

"  You  mean  Miss  Laurence.  She  is  a  friend  that  I  am 
proud  to  own." 

"But  you  will  not  own  her  long,  as  Miss  Laurence,  let 
me  tell  you.  What  luck  some  people  have  !  She  is  en- 
gaged.-' 

"  Indeed  !  Since  when,  and  to  whom  ?  "  said  Ivon,  indif- 
ferently, for  he  had  no  faith  in  Miss  Spicer' s  sources  of 
information. 

"I  don't  know  when;  but  the  man  I  am  certain  of.  It 
is  Mr.  Ross." 

"  Mr.  Ross  ! " 

[von  was  aroused  now;  the  very  name  startled  him. 
Other  thoughts  crowded  in.  Why  had  the  Carters  taken 
Blich  sudden  interest  in  the  girl  ?  Why  had  she  accepted 
his  declaration  of  love,  but  so  resolutely  refused  his  hand  '.' 

"Has  the  news  strmk  yoo  dunih  ? "  exclaimed  Miaa 
Spi'-er,  with  a  short  laugh.      "  One  Would  think  so." 

"  Idle  gossip,  Miss  Spicer,  seldom  has  that  power  over 
me." 


HERSELF      AGAIN.  197 

"  Gossip  !  "Why,  the  engagement  is  declared.  I  got  it 
from  Mrs.  Carter  herself." 

''Is  this  true?" 

"As  the  gospel.  Ask  her  yourself.  She  doesn't  seem 
ashamed  of  the  match,  but  presents  the  girl  to  any  one  that 
comes  up.  Disgusting,  isn't  it.  As  if  she  had  not  trouble 
enough  to  get  into  society  herself,  without  that." 

In  his  anxiety  Ivon  had  turned  toward  the  drawing-room, 
which  Mrs.  Lambert  had  just  left.  At  the  door  he  met  the 
gentleman  who  had  placed  her  in  the  carriage. 

"Ah  !  I  have  discovered  you  at  last,"  he  said,  addressing 
Miss  Spicer.  "  Mrs.  Lambert  has  gone  home.  She  desired 
me  to  say  that  the  carriage  would  be  sent  back  for  you." 

"The  idea!"  exclaimed  that  young  lady,  casting  a  sig- 
nificant glance  at  Ivon.  "  Does  she  expect  us  to  ride  home 
alone  ?     People  will  say  that  we  are  engaged." 

"  Very  naturally,"  answered  the  gentleman  ;  at  which 
Miss  Spicer  struck  him  with  her  fan,  exclaiming  again, 
"  The  idea  !  " 

The  gentleman  passed  on,  laughing  pleasantly.  Ivon  and 
his  companion  entered  the  great  drawing-room. 

"  There  they  stand  now  !  Does  that  look  like  an  engage- 
ment ?  "  cried  the  young  lady.  "  Watch  their  faces,  see 
her  eyes.  What  an  artful  way  she  has  of  lifting  them — 
practises  at  the  counter,  I  suppose.  Do  you  believe  me 
now  ?  " 

Miss  Spicer  used  her  own  eyes  as  she  spoke,  and  saw  that 
Ivon  was  deadly  pale.     Still,  she  had  no  mercy  on  him. 

"There!  See  how  he  bends  over  her!  What  expression! 
What  tender  interest  one  can  read  in  his  face  !  No  wonder 
she  looks  at  him  so  earnestly.  He  is  the  handsomest  man 
I  have  seen  this  year,  spite  of  a  few  grey  hairs.  Uich,  too, 
or  will  be ;  for  the  Carters  mean  to  give  them  everything. 
Isn't  she  in  a  good  run  of  luck?  " 

Ivon  did  not  answer,  but  led  his  companion  to  the  mis- 


- 

I 


. 

..ent 

- 

—  . 

- 


C  I.  0  8  I  K  G      THE      =  II  U  T  T  E  R  3.  199 

more  frequently  than  she  was  con.-cious  of.     At  such  time3 

e  would  lean  forward,  with  a  hand  on  each  knee. 
exclaim,  in  the  fullness  of  his  admiration, 

"Oh,  my!     Isn't  that  dress  agoing  to  put  down  the  hull 

bilen  of  'em.     If  there's  a  more  stupendous  lady  than  she'll 

he,  I'd  like   to  see   her  a  going   to  the  party,    that's  all. 

Jim's  sister  to  think  of  evening  herself   agin   us.     White 

•ns  agin  peacocks,  with  moon3  on  their  spread  feathers  ! 

:" 

Mrs.  Smith  heard  these  exclamations  with  no  little  ela- 
tion ;  and  Kate  Gorman  repeated  them,  with  Hibernian  im- 
provements, that  fairly  took  the  good  woman  off  her  feet. 

It  was  an  important  moment  when  Mrs.  Smith  descended 
to  the  store,  with  her  red  moire  antique  gathered  up  in 
voluminous  folds  around  her  person,  and  a  huge  bouquet  in 
her  hand. 

When  Boyce  heard  her  step  on  the  stairs,  he  fell  to  work 
at  once,  removed  baskets  of  fruit,  butter-tubs  and  fish-bar- 
rels from  their  places,  and  widened  a  safe  passage  for  the 
gorgeous  dres3,  which  passed  through,  as  it  were,  with  a 
rustle  and  flutter  of  acknowledgment.  This  the  rni-:tres3 
intensified,  by  a  world  of  gracious  thanks,  and  permission  to 
close  the  store  immediately  after  ten.  This  wa3  exactly 
what  Boyce  had  been  aiming  at,  having  made  a  private 
arrangement  to  go  out  with  Kate  Gorman. 

The  moment  Smith's  carriage  drove  off,  Bo}~ce  took  au- 
thority on  himself,  and  summoned  James  to  action. 

"  Come  along  here  and  help  put  up  the  shutters.  Haul 
them  baskets  inside,  and  don't  stuff  your  pockets  full  of 
cranberries,  while  you're  a  doing  it.  I  know  yer  tricks,  old 
feller,  so  look  sharp,  if  you  want  me  to  hold  my  tongue." 

James   had  just   seen  his  sister  come  forth  in  hei 
white  raiment,  and  fresh  flowers,  on  her  way  to  the  party, 
and  felt  some  resentment  at  the  disparaging  remarks  Boyce 
made  about  her.     But  he  knew  well  enough  that  words 


200  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

would  be  of  no  avail  with  the  young  tyrant,  aud  obeyed 
him  in  angry  silence. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  shutters  were  closed,  and  even  the 
coal-bin,  which  projected  on  the  side-walk,  was  safely  fas- 
tened. When  this  was  done,  Boj-ce  led  the  way  up  stairs, 
and  met  Kate  Gorman  at  the  landing,  with  her  shawl  and 
bonnet  on. 

"They're  asleep  at  last,"  she  said,  "all  but  Jeru:>ha 
Maria;  she  holds  out  like  a  trooper,  for  the  sight  of  that 
red  dress  just  drove  her  wild,  and  she  keeps  snatching  at  the 
yeller  feather  yet.  I  gave  her  a  double  dose  of  paregoric, 
and  got  her  under  a  little;  but  she's  wide  awake  yet." 

"Just  in  time,"  Boyce  broke  in.  "We  shall  have  a  good 
look  at  the  whole  crowd.  Jimmy  will  take  care  that  the 
youug  ones  don't  fall  out  of  bed.  Just  you  go  in  there,  old 
feller,  and  see  that  you  stick  to  your  post,  and  hold  that 
precious  little  girl  in  your  arms  till  she  crows  herself  to 
sleep.     It's  just  the  work  for  you." 

"  I'll  go  in,  of  course,  because  some  one  must  take  care 
of  her,"  said  James ;  "  but  it's  too  early  to  close  up,  and 
you  have  no  business  to  go  out  so  soon." 

"So  soon,"  cried  Kate  Gorman,  tying  her  bonnet  with  an 
angry  jerk.     "Look  at  the  clock." 

James  did  look  at  the  little  time-piece,  in  its  square 
mahogany  case,  and  was  astonished  to  see  that  it  only 
wanted  a  few  minutes  of  ten  o'clock. 

Kate  gave  Boyce  a  knowing  wink,  and  made  a  swift 
motion  with  her  fingers,  as  if  turning  the  pointers  of  a 
clock,  which  he  understood,  and  answered  with  an  approving 
nod. 

"  Not  just  yet,"  said  Boyce,  as  James  was  going  into  the 
sleeping-room  where  Jerusha  Maria  was  making  vigorous 
efforts  to  get  out  of  her  cradle.  "  You've  got  to  go  down, 
and  lock  us  out.  I'm  not  a  going  to  carry  a  heavy  key 
about  in  my  pocket.     Besides,  safe  bind  and  safe  find  is  my 


CLOSING     THE     SHUTTERS.  201 

motto.  So  make  sure  you  don't  go  to  sleep  with  the  baby, 
for  we  depend  on  you  to  let  us  in,  and  so  will  the  other 
party." 

James  made  no  answer,  but  took  the  key  that  Boyce  held 
out,  and  followed  the  two  down  stairs.  The  store  was  dark 
as  midnight,  for  the  shutters  were  firmly  closed,  and  the 
candle  which  James  carried,  only  gave  out  a  faint  circle  of 
light,  by  which  the  clerk  and  housemaid  found  their  way 
into  the  street. 

James  closed  the  door  after  them,  locked  it,  and  looked 
around  for  an  iron  bar,  that  usually  stood  back  of  the  door, 
ready  for  the  two  staples  sunk  into  the  woodwork  on  either 
side.  It  was  not  to  be  seen.  The  boy  held  down  his  light, 
and  searched  for  it  in  every  place  he  could  think  of,  but  in 
vain. 

"Boyce  has  flung  it  down  somewhere,  moving  the  things 
about,"  he  thought,  a  little  anxiously.  "  It  was  awful 
careless  of  him  ;  but  there's  no  need  of  it.  The  lock  is 
strong  enough,  and  I'm  not  likely  to  go  to  sleep." 

Just  then  the  little  girl  up  stairs  gave  an  impatient  yell, 
which  drove  all  ideas  of  the  bar  out  of  the  lad's  mind ; 
with  the  key  in  his  hand,  he  rushed  up  stairs,  calling  out 
cheerfully  to  the  little  night-hawk  as  he  went. 

During  the  nest  half-hour  James  was  busy  carrying  that 
spoiled  child  up  and  down  the  room,  while  she  tugged  vi- 
ciously at  his  hair,  sobbed,  shrieked,  and  kicked  her  tiny  feet 
against  his  chest,  until  even  her  unnatural  energy  gave  out, 
aud  she  fell  asleep  in  his  tired  arms. 

"With  the  stealthy  tread  of  a  cat,  and  holding  his  breath, 
James  laid  the  child  in  its  crib,  and  sat  down  completely 
tired  out.  He  had  been  busy  all  day,  and  excitement  had 
taken  away  his  appetite.  He  was  not  hungry  now,  but 
found  his  throat  dry,  and  a  feverish  thirst  upon  him. 

A  pitcher  of  root-beer  stood  on  the  table,  with  a  tumbler, 
from  which  Boyce  had  drank  before  going  out.     The  bottle 


202  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

of  paregoric,  brought  from  the  druggist's  that  afternoon, 
was  on  the  window-sill  close  by,  almost  empty. 

James  took  up  the  tumbler,  filled  it,  and  drank  eagerly. 
It  seemed  a  little  strong,  but  he  thought  nothing  of  that 
until  he  noticed  the  vial  on  the  window.  Then  he  fancied 
a  taste  of  paregoric  in  his  mouth. 

"  I  suppose  they  dropped  the  spoon  into  the  glass,  after 
the  baby  had  done  with  it,"  lie  thought.  "But  what  a 
iolly  dose  they  must  have  given  her.  There  isn't  a  tea- 
ppoonful  left.  How  she  will  sleep,  now  that  I've  got  her 
down." 

The  boy  seated  himself  by  the  crib,  and  began  to  swing 
it  lightly  to  and  fro,  rather  to  keep  himself  busy,  than  from 
any  idea  of  its  usefulness.  After  awhile  his  eyes  grew 
heavy,  and  his  hand  rested  motionless  on  the  crib.  Then  it 
fell  away  altogether,  and,  seated  in  the  Boston  rocking- 
chair,  James  slept  as  soundly  as  his  little  charge. 

Once  or  twice  the  boy  awoke  with  a  start,  as  if  some 
noise  had  aroused  him ;  but  his  head  was  heavy,  and  his 
senses  dull.  Strive  as  he  would  to  listen,  sleep  overpowered 
him,  and  was  more  and  more  profound  as  the  night  wore  on. 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

WATCHING   FROM   THE   PAVEMENT. 

Meantime,  Boyce  and  Kate  Gorman  were  enjoying 
themselves  in  a  most  aristocratic  fashion,  in  front  of  Mrs. 
Carter's  dwelling.  They  had  taken  a  good  position,  and 
saw  the  whole  company,  as  carriage  after  carriage  set  down 
its  load.  Once,  for  a  very  brief  time,  Kate  missed  her 
companion,  who  had  stepped  back  into  the  shadow  of  a 
neighboring  building,  and  spoke  to  a  young  man,  who  took 


WATCHING     FROM     THE     PAVEMENT.       203 

something  from  his  hand  then  slunk  cautiously  away. 
Directly  he  disappeared  entirely  and  was  lost  in  the  crowd 
of  curious  persons,  who  had  gathered  to  see  what  fashiona- 
ble life  was  like,  when  viewed  from  the  side-walk,  and  by 
gaslight. 

••  What,  me  !  "  said  Boyce,  when  Kate  reproached  him 
for  leaving  her.  "  I  haven't  been  six  feet  away  from  you 
all  the  evening.  It  was  that  big  woman  who  stood  between 
me  and  you.  I  could  have  took  hold  of  your  dress  any 
minute;  only  you  were  enjoying  yourself  so  much  with 
them  last  two  carriage-loads,  that  I  didn't  have  the  heart 
to  disturb  yon  b}'  saying  I'm  here,  Miss  Gorman,  which  I 
was,  though,  not  being  the  fellow  to  leave  a  lovely  and 
defenceless  female  alone  in  a  crowd." 

"  Of  course  you're  not,  Mr.  Boyce,"  said  Kate,  fully  sat- 
isfied that  he  had  been  close  by  her  elbow  all  the  time.  "I 
only  did  not  see  you  just  then,  and,  being  a  little  timmer- 
some  at  night,  the  thought  of  your  leaving  me  alone  set  me 
all  in  a  trimble." 

"  But  the  moment  you  spoke  I  was  here." 

"  Of  course  you  were ;  only  I  didn't  observe  it  just  at  the 
minute.  But,  oh  !  what  has  come  over  us  now  ?  Look 
there !  If  she  hasn't  brought  down  a  handful  of  stars  for 
her  head  !     Why,  sure,  it's  the  queen  herself!  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  answered  Boyce,  with  supreme  con- 
tempt of  the  idea.  "  She's  only  a  customer  of  ours.  I've 
had  to  carry  home  her  groceries  more  than  once,  when  that 
boy  Jim  was  out.     That's  Mrs.  Lambert." 

"  Mrs.  Lambert,"  repeated  Kate,  who  had  never  heard 
the  name  before,  but  was  still  wonderfully  impressed  by  the 
splendor  of  that  lady's  dress.  "  Well,  of  course,  you 
know;  only,  if  it  was  not  for  that,  I  should  take  her  for 
something  a  great  deal  more  particular.  Dear  me!  what  a 
blaze  the  house  is  in.  How  the  curtains  shake  and  tremble. 
To  think  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith  being  in  there,  with  the 


204  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

cream  of  the  country,  and  I  dressing  her  for  the  same  !  It's 
beyond  belief,  if  we  didn't  know  it?" 

"Miss  Kate!" 

'•  Well,  Boyce,  that's  me  !  " 

"  After  the  carriages  get  a  little  thinner,  suppose  you  and 
I  go  down  to  the  theatre?" 

"  The  theatre,  Mr.  Boyce,  wouldn't  that  make  us  late 
home  ? " 

"  Well,  no.  We  could  just  drop  into  the  Bowery,  see 
some  of  them  fellows  die  fighting  like  fury,  and  then 
get  back  time  enough  to  see  all  this  company  come  out 
and  go  home.  They've  been  having  a  good  time  ;  why 
shouldn't  we  ?  " 

"  True  for  ye  :  but  the  child  !  " 

"  Haven't  we  left  that  boy  Jim  in  full  charge,  and  isn't 
he  a  capital  nuss.  Come  now,  what's  the  odds  !  While 
this  swell-crowd  is  enjoying  of  itself  with  dancing  and 
champagne,  oysters  and  ice  cream,  boned-turkey,  and  what 
not,  you  and  I  are  human  creatures,  with  a  right  to  live, 
and  have  fun  as  well  as  them." 

"  That  is  the  truth,  anyhow." 

"  So,  having  the  funds  in  my  pocket,  I  am  ready  to  stand 
that  amount,  if  you're  conformable." 

"Well,  Bo}'ce,  I  can't  say  but  I  am  willing." 

With  this,  Kate  Gorman  took  the  clerk's  arm,  and  cross- 
ing over  to  a  street  car,  proceeded  with  him  to  the  theatre. 

An  hour  or  two  later,  the  couple  stood  in  front  of  Mr. 
Carter's  dwelling  again.  The  crowd  had  dispersed  then, 
and  there  seemed  little  to  interest  any  person  in  the  car- 
riages that  crept  up  to  the  door,  and,  taking  in  a  sleepy 
freight  of  revelers,  moved  away.  Still  Boyce  insisted  that 
the  sight  was  one  that  he  would  not  lose  for  the  world, 
and  kept  the  weary  girl  standing  there,  until  Mrs.  Smith 
appeared  at  the  door,  and,  with  fussy  attention  to  her  dress, 
entered  the  hack  that  waited  for  her. 


WATCHING      FROM      THE      PAVEMENT.       205 

When  this  carriage  drove  away,  Boyce  expressed  great 
willingness  to  go  home  ;  and  Kate,  who  had  dropped  half 
asleep,  moved  away  with  him,  heartily  wishing  herself  iu 
bed. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith  drove,  in  a  dreary,  fatigued  state, 
toward  their  home.  The  occasion  had  been  a  proud  one ; 
but  even  that  could  not  make  them  quite  insensible  to  the 
late  hour,  and  the  discomfort  of  full  dress,  when  the  desire 
for  sleep  lay  heavy  upon  both. 

When  the  carriage  stopped,  Smith  let  himself  out,  and 
waited  to  see  his  wife  safe  on  the  pavement.  Then  he  gave 
a  heavy  blow  on  the  door  with  his  clenched  hand,  waiting 
afterward  with  some  impatience  for  it  to  be  opened. 

A  full  minute  went  by,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  life  in 
the  building.  Then  he  gave  another  impatient  blow,  and 
stepped  back  to  see  if  any  one  was  stirring  in  the  second 
story. 

A  dim  light  shone  through  the  blinds;  but  it  seemed 
stationary,  and  no  one  moved.  Then  Smith  shouted,  and, 
taking  up  a  block  of  wood,  flung  it  viciously  at  his  own 
window.     Evidentl}'  late  hours  did  not  agree  with  him. 

At  last,  the  light  began  to  waver,  and  finally  disappeared. 

Just  then  Boyce  and  Kate  Gormau  came  up,  much  to 
the  astonishment  of  their  emploj'ers. 

'•Why,  Kate  Gorman,  Jared  Boyce!  What  does  this 
mean  ?  " 

"Oh!  nothing,"  said  Boyce,  almost  airily.  "  Only  Kate 
and  I  have  been  out  on  a  little  bender  of  our  own.  The 
store  and  bab\7  are  all  right ;  we  left  Jim  Laurence  locked 
in  with  them." 

Before  Mrs.  Smith  could  reply,  the  grocery  door  was 
opened,  and  James  stood  in  the  entrance  with  a  lamp  in  his 
hand. 


206  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

CHAPTER   XLVI. 

AFTER    THE    PARTY. 

The  next  morning  after  the  ball  Mr.  Smith  arose  very 
cross,  and  Mrs.  Smith  slept  late,  so  late  that  Jerusha  Maria 
grew  fearfully  impatient,  and,  having  slept  off  her  liberal 
share  of  the  paregoric,  wanted  to  have  the  usual  rough  and 
tumble  romp  on  her  mother's  bed.  This  desire  the  drowsy 
woman  repulsed  with  a  half-angry  growl,  that  made  the 
child  first  open  her  eyes  wide  with  astonishment,  then  fill 
her  mouth  with  indignant  screams. 

This  outcry  James  was  expected  to  pacify,  while  Kate 
Gorman  got  the  breakfast  in  grim  discontent,  for  she  too 
was  suffering  from  want  of  sleep,  and  took  vengeance  on  the 
gridiron  and  coffee-mill,  which  she  banged  about  viciously, 
and  ground  with  the  fury  of  a  Nemesis. 

While  Smith  eat  his  solitary  breakfast,  which  was  in 
itself  enough  to  sour  any  man's  temper,  the  coffee  being 
thick  with  grounds,  and  the  fried  potatoes  bitter  with 
smoke,  Boyce  opened  the  store,  and  dragged  forth  his  baskets 
and  boxes  of  merchandise  under  the  sheltering  awning;  he 
made  a  respectable  display  of  vegetables  left  over  from  the 
previous  night,  and  fruit  with  a  suspicion  of  decay  creeping 
through  it;  for  Smith  had  slept  too  late  for  the  early  mar- 
ket hour,  and  even  his  stock  in  trade  felt  the  effect  of  that 
one  night's  advent  into  high  life,  the  splendor  of  which  had 
demoralized  his  home. 

Thus  it  chanced  that  the  store  work  came  entirety  to 
Boyce,  and  that  interesting  child,  with  her  screams,  her 
kicks,  and  wonderful  capacity  for  hair  -  tugging,  fell  to 
James,  while  Kate  scolded,  and  Mrs.  Smith  slept. 

In  vain  the  lad  tried  to  hush  the  indignant  young  lady  ; 
in  vain  he  bent  his  head,  and  offered  a  splendid  mass  of 


AFTER     THE     PARTY.  207 

raven  curls  for  her  hands  to  revel  in.  Once  or  twice,  I  am 
afraid,  he  was  tempted  to  shake  her  soundly ;  in  fact,  he  did 
practice  a  little  in  that  line,  but  ended  it  all  in  fun,  and  fin- 
ished by  making  up  faces,  that  turned  her  continuous  howl 
into  shrieks  of  laughter. 

At  last  Smith  went  down  stairs,  wondering  if  there  was 
no  way  of  stopping  that  child's  noise,  and  wishing  that  he 
were  a  woman  with  nothing  to  do  but  sleep  till  noon,  con- 
tented as  a  lamb,  with  an  Irish  girl  slamming  things  about, 
and  a  jerky  child  yelling  Hail  Columbia  in  his  ears. 

Mrs.  Smith  was  too  soundly  asleep  to  hear  this  sarcasm, 
and  the  young  lady  aforesaid  set  up  a  new  tune  of  offence, 
feeling  deeply  wronged,  when  her  father  passed  down  stairs, 
without  an  effort  to  appease  her  grief. 

James  struggled  under  these  difficulties  with  wonderful 
patience;  he  tossed  Miss  Smith  into  the  air  till  she  caught 
her  breath  like  a  sun-fish  out  of  water.  He  set  her  down 
in  his  lap,  and  trotted  her  to  Boston,  with  the  agility  of  a 
race  horse.  He  exhibited  a  pair  of  red  morocco  boots  on 
her  own  little  feet,  which  filled  her  with  a  moment's  admira- 
tion, and  a  burst  of  fervent  laughter.  He  carried  her  to 
the  window,  and  pointed  out  her  father,  who  was  talking 
with  Boyce  in  front  of  the  store,  in  an  earnest  and  rather 
excited  manner,  which  did  not  at  first  strike  him  as  singu- 
lar, as  everybody  was  restless  and  excited  that  morning. 
But  there  was  something  strange  about  Boyce,  who  seemed 
to  be  talking  in  a  low,  eager  way,  and  watching  the  thunder- 
cloud on  his  employer's  face,  with  keen,  sidelong  glances, 
that  struck  the  lad  who  looked  on  as  false  and  sinister. 

Even  the  child  seemed  to  notice  something  strange  about 
her  father,  and  stopped  crying  suddenly.  For  some  unac- 
countable reason  the  boy's  heart  fell,  and  he  watched  the 
two  as  they  walked  back  into  the  store  with  a  feeling  of 
vague  apprehension.  Why,  a  wiser  person  than  himself 
could  not  have  told;  for  he  had  done  no  wrong,  and  had  no 
enemies,  unless  the  young  fellow,  Boyce,  was  one. 


£08  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

This  was  what  had  occurred  in  the  store  below.  In  the 
hurry  of  preparation  for  Mrs.  Carter's  party,  a  considerable 
amount  of  money  had  been  left  in  the  desk,  a  circumstance 
that  seldom  happened,  and  which  Smith  had  always  pro- 
vided against,  by  a  deposit  every  afternoon.  Before  going 
up  to  dress,  he  had  locked  the  desk,  and  put  the  key  in 
his  pocket,  leaving  it  there  when  he  changed  his  clothes. 
When  he  went  down  in  the  morning,  this  money  was  gone, 
and  with  it  some  of  the  more  expensive  portions  of  his 
stock — two  or  three  small  boxes  of  choice  tea,  which  bore 
his  private  mark,  and  other  articles,  amounting  to  the 
value  of  several  hundred  dollars. 

Now,  these  things  might  have  been  removed  from  the 
store  by  one  person,  but  a  horse  and  wagon  must  have  been 
used  to  carry  them  away,  if  they  were  taken  any  distance. 
It  had  been  considerably  after  nine  the  night  before  when 
Smith  and  his  wife  started  for  the  party.  Boyce  had  gone 
out  with  Kate  Gorman  directly  after,  as  he  confessed,  hav- 
ing been  locked  out  by  James  Laurence,  who  retained  pos- 
session of  the  key.  How  then  could  this  robbery  have 
taken  place  before  ten. 

Kate  Gorman  had  been  about  all  the  time,  and  so  was 
James,  who  was  anxious,  Boyce  said,  that  the  key  should 
be  left  with  him.  This  was  all  that  Boyce  knew  of  the 
matter.  He  and  Kate  Gorman  had  been  together  all  the 
time  after  they  left  the  store,  till  they  returned  to  it.  Early 
in  the  evening  they  had  watched  the  guests  going  into  the 
Carter  mansion  ;  then  they  had  been  at  the  Bowery  theatre. 
In  fact,  every  minute  of  his  time  could  be  accounted  for. 

But  the  boy  James,  Boyce  knew  nothing  about  him.  only 
ili.it  he  wanted  to  stay  at  home,  that  he  was  rather  anxious 
to  keep  the  key,  and  had  fastened  the  door  after  them  when 
he  and  Kate  went  out.  Of  course  there  was  nothing  wrong 
about  that.  True,  money  had  been  missing  in  small  sums 
more  than  once;  but  thieves  were  adroit,  and,  in  the  hurry 


AFTER     THE     PARTY.  209 

of  business,  the  money  drawer  was  left  exposed  sometimes. 
There  was  no  reason  to  suspect  James,  because  a  few  dollars 
had  been  found  missing  now  and  then. 

But  for  these  sagacious  hints,  perhaps,  Mr.  Smith  never 
would  have  suspected  the  boy.  He  knew  how  adroit  bur- 
glars could  be,  and  his  thoughts  naturally  turned  in  that 
direction :  but  Boyce  had  managed  to  unite  the  boy  with 
this  very  idea.  Burglars  always  have  accomplices,  he  said, 
frequently  among  the  servant  girls;  but  that  could  not  be 
true  of  Kate  Gorman,  who  was  honest  as  the  day  was  long; 
besides,  she  had  been  with  him  all  the  time.  No,  no,  it 
could  not  possibly  be  Kate  Gorman,  nor  James.  Things 
might  look  a  little  squally  in  his  direction ;  but  the  little 
chap  was  true  as  steel ;  to  suspect  him  was  just  nonsense. 

Smith  said  little.  He  was  a  shrewd,  close  man,  who  kept 
his  thoughts  and  his  money  very  much  to  himself.  He 
questioned  Boyce  closely  enough,  and  imbibed  suspicions 
conscientiously,  that  influenced  his  after  action  to  a  cruel 
extent;  but  he  came  to  no  definite  conclusion  for  that  day 
at  least.  This  much  he  settled.  Mrs.  Smith  was  to  know 
nothing  of  the  robbery;  first,  because  discovery  was  not 
likely  to  spring  out  of  much  talking,  and  again,  because  his 
wife  had  warned  him  of  danger  in  having  so  much  money 
in  the  store.  Besides,  what  was  the  use  of  telling  her  ? 
Women  were  always  Marplots  in  such  affairs.  No,  no,  he 
would  betake  himself  to  a  sharp  detective,  get  the  property 
back,  and  then  inform  his  wife.  Fortunately,  she  would  be 
far  too  sleepy  that  da}T  for  any  special  interest  in  his  affairs. 

Bo}Tce  was  very  willing  to  be  silent;  in  fact  he  did  not 
take  lovingly  to  the  investigation,  and  was  glad  to  be  rid 
of  it ;  his  face  had  been  unusually  pale  from  the  first, 
and  he  moved  uneasily  when  Smith's  eyes  were  upon  him, 
as  if  the  thought  of  having  drawn  suspicion  on  that  young 
boy  were  distressing  him. 

Not  even  to  Kate  Gorman  did  the  grocer  mention  his  loss  ; 
13 


210  THE     REIGNING     BELLE. 

but  he  questioned  her  in  a  cautious  way,  and  got  full  con- 
firmation of  all  that  Boyce  had  said.  After  this,  he  went  to 
a  detective,  and  set  him  on  the  alert. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

HOW    MISS    SPICER    AND    ELLEN    POST    FRATERNIZE. 

That  day  Boyce  carried  some  groceries  to  Mrs.  Lam- 
bert's kitchen.  He  was  very  intimate  in  that  region,  es- 
pecially with  Robert  the  footman,  who  had  a  face  not  un- 
like his  own,  and  hair  of  the  same  brick-dust  hue,  a  tint 
that  Ellen  Post  admired  exceedingly.  In  fact,  the  waiting- 
maid's  fancy  did  not  stop  there,  but  took  in  the  five  feet  ten 
of  the  footman's  entire  person.  For  his  sake,  she  gave  a 
little  lofty  patronage  to  Boj~ce,  though  it  was  a  thorn  in  her 
side  that  Robert's  influence  had  been  brought  to  bear  on 
the  cook  in  the  same  direction. 

After  all,  societ}'  is  like  a  tangle  of  wild  vines,  it  is  im- 
possible to  separate  the  fruit  from  the  leaves  that  breathe 
for  it.  What  society  is  in  the  mass,  families  are  in  detail. 
Each  member  has  an  important  influence  on  the  others. 
The  mistress  of  a  household  would  often  be  shocked,  if  she 
dreamed  how  completely  she  is  the  tool  ami  puppet  of  a 
servant,  with  more  brains  and  less  money  than  herself;  or 
how  completely  her  most  sacred  thoughts  are  criticised  and 
discussed  in  the  kitchen. 

For  some  days  Miss  Spicer  had  been  staying  with  Mrs. 
Lambert,  who  was  far  from  well,  and  kept  her  room,  refus- 
ing to  see  any  one  but  this  girl,  who  brought  her  news  from 
their  outer  world,  and  talked  with  her  continually  on  the 
only  subject  sin-  wished  to  think  of. 

Miss  Spicer  being  an  active  person,  erratic  in  her  move- 


MISS      SPICER      AND     ELLEN     POST.         211 

ments,  and  fond  of  talking,  had  many  spare  hour3  which 
could  not  be  spent  with  Mrs.  Lambert,  who  got  tired  of  the 
girl,  the  moment  her  stock  of  news  was  exhausted,  and 
pined  for  solitude,  being  sick  at  heart,  aud  weary  of  every- 
thing. 

Now  there  was  no  other  lady  in  the  house,  and,  as  Miss 
Spicer  must  fraternize  with  some  one,  it  naturally  fell  out 
that  she  became  intimate,  and  even  confidential,  with  Ellen 
Post. 

A  little  before  Boyce  brought  his  basket  of  groceries  into 
the  kitchen,  Miss  Spicer  and  Ellen  were  together  in  the 
young  lady's  room,  talking  over  the  merits  of  a  changeable 
silk,  which  Miss  Spicer  was  in  suspense  about,  not  being 
quite  certain  of  its  effect  upon  her  complexion. 

Ellen  Post  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  her  head 
crowned  with  its  little  French  cap,  knowingly  canted  on  one 
side,  as  she  held  up  the  breadths  of  shimmering  silk,  which 
changed  and  glistened  like  a  pigeon's  neck  with  each  move- 
ment of  her  hand. 

"Now,  for  Mrs.  Lambert,  I  should  say  at  once,  take  it," 
she  said,  with  the  solemn  air  of  a  priestess  at  the  altar ; 
"but,  for  you,  Miss  Spicer,  it  is  different.  As  a  general 
thing,  solid  colors,  and  delicate  at  that,  is  what  I  could 
wish." 

"  You  think  so,  Ellen  ?  Well,  I  am  not  sure.  The  silk 
is  exquisitely  lovely  in  itself." 

"Yes,  but  haven't  you  observed,  Miss  Spicer,  that  the 
most  charming  tints  in  silk  are  not  always  the  most  telling, 
when  you  get  them  on  !  There  is  the  dress  you  wore  the 
other  night.     Now,  to  my  mind,  that  dress  was  a  failure." 

"  That  dress  a  failure  ?  Why,  Ellen  Post,  it  cost  ten 
dollars  a  yard." 

"Shouldn't  wonder;  but  still,  it  didn't  come  up  to  my 
expectations.  When  the  madam  came  out,  she  killed  it 
dead." 


212  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

u  Nothing,  I  believe,  came  up  to  any  one's  expectations 
that  night.  I  never  spent  such  an  evening.  Every  one  I 
knew  was  out  of  sorts,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"I'm  sure  the  madam  was."  answered  Ellen.  "Never 
saw  her  so  wild  and  white  in  my  life.  What  could  have 
happened  ?  You  ought  to  know,  Miss  Spicer — you,  as  one 
might  say,  a  part  of  the  family." 

te   ,"  No,  I'm  not,  Ellen   Post,  and   it's  likely  I  never  shall 
be." 

"  Why,  Miss  Spicer,  I  thought  it  was  settled.  I  am  sure 
the  madam  treats  you  as  if  you  were  her  own  daughter,  and 
Mr.  Ivon " 

"  There,  there,  don't  mention  him  !  It's  only  an  aggra- 
vation. One  day  sweet  as  honey-dew,  the  next  after  some 
one  else,  flirting,  like  a  humming-bird,  right  before  my  face, 
and  daring  to  tell  me  that  another  girl — one  of  those  for- 
ward, low  creatures  that  sell  goods — has  rejected  him." 

Ellen  Post  dropped  the  silk  which  she  had  been  holding, 
and  all  its  shining  folds  fell  in  a  heap  on  the  carpet. 

"  Miss  Spicer,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that !  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  mean  to  say  just  that,  and  could  say  more. 
Only  think,  Ellen  Post,  of  taking  that  girl's  leavings,  a 
creature  with  hair  like  ink,  and  eyes  hid  away  under  her 
lashes  like  a  brook  sleeping  under  rushes.  Then  the  impu- 
dence of  her  air,  walking  like  an  empress,  and  she  a  shawl- 
fitter,  a — a —  Oh,  I  would  give  five  thousand  dollars  this 
very  hour  to  see  her  so  disgraced,  that  he  would  be  ashamed 
to  own  that  he  had  ever  spoken  to  her.  I  hate  her  very 
name ! " 

''What  is  her  name?  "  inquired  Ellen  Post. 

"Laurence.  Eva  Laurence.  Such  a  name  for  a  shop- 
girl !  " 

"  Eva  Laurence.  I  have  heard  that  before.  The  madam 
kept  saying  it  over  in  her  sleep  the  night  she  came  home 
from  Mrs.  Carter's  party.     She  does  not  like  the  girl  more 


FIVE     THOUSAND      DOLLARS.  213 

than  j'ou  do,  I  am  certain,  though  I  never  heard  her  speak 
the  name  except  in  sleep ;  then  it  left  her  lips  white,  as  if 
henbane  had  touched  them." 

"I  should  not  wonder,"  exclaimed  Miss  Spicer,  struck  by 
a  sudden  idea.  "  Didn't  you  tell  me  that  Mr.  Ross,  the 
great  artist,  called  here  once  or  twice  ?  " 

"Once;  I  remember  only  once;  but  she  received  him  in 
her  private  room — a  thing  I  do  not  remember  of  any  other 
man — and  told  me  to  say  that  she  was  not  at  home  to  a 
human  being.  He  stayed  ever  so  long  —  three  hours,  I 
should  think." 

"That  is  strange,"  said  the  young  lady.  "She  must 
have  known  him  before." 


CHAPTER  XL VIII. 

FIYE    THOUSAND    DOLLARS. 


"Miss  Spicer,  if  you'll  promise  never  to  mention  it,  I'll 
tell  you  something,"  said  the  maid,  after  a  little  considera- 
tion. 

"Well,  I  promise  !  " 

"That  man,  Mr.  Ross,  I  mean,  once  forced  himself  into 
our  garden,  trampled  down  the  beds,  and  insisted  on  finding 
madam  in  one  of  the  green-houses,  where  he  did  find  her, 
and  there  they  talked  together  in  a  strauge  way.  I  did  not 
hear  what  they  said,  being  in  another  part  of  the  garden, 
and  old  Storms  there,  so  that  I  could  not  get  closer;  but  his 

voice  was  loud  and  clear,  and  hers Well,  I  can't  tell 

you  what  hers  was  like,  only  there  was  something  that  went 
to  my  heart  in  it — tears  buried  out  of  sight  since  she  was  a 
girl.     I  should  say " 

"Well,  Ellen,  you  have  surprised  me.     Who  would  have 


214  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

thought  it  of  her — so  proud,  so  grandly  self-possessed?     I 
never  dreamed  that  she  could  give  way." 

"Give  way!  Why,  that  man  left  heron  the  conserva- 
tory floor  in  a  dead  swoon,"  said  Ellen  Post,  bringing  her 
story  to  a  climax  with  thrilling  dexterity. 

Miss  Spicer  sunk  down  on  the  carpet,  by  the  billowy 
waves  of  silk  that  Ellen  had  dropped  there,  holding  up  her 
hands  in  astonishment. 

'•  Mrs.  Lambert  in  a  swoon,  a  down  right  fainting  fit!  I 
can't  believe  it.     Indeed,  indeed,  I  can't." 

"You  may,  for  I  helped  to  bring  her  out,  and  a  dreadful 
time  we  had  of  it.  All  that  night  long  she  lay  like  a  dead 
woman,  and  never  spoke  a  word,  except  one,  and  that  was  a 
name." 

"  What  name,  Ellen  ?  " 

"Herman.  I  never  heard  it  before,  and  I  don't  know 
who  it  belongs  to  in  the  least,"  answered  the  lady's  maid. 

"Herman;  that  is  his  name — Herman  Ross." 

"Then,  one  thing  is  sure!" 

"What  is  that,  Ellen?" 

u  She  loves  that  man." 

"Elleu  Post,  you  take  away  my  breath  ! " 

"She  loves  that  man.  It  was  him  she  was  dressing  for 
that  night,  when  nothing  could  please  her." 

"The  night  of  Mrs.  Carter's  party;  do  you  mean  that, 
Ellen?" 

"  Of  course  I  mean  that.  !Never  saw  her  so  hard  to 
please.  I  took  off  her  diamonds  twice,  and  had  to  put 
them  on  again  at  last.  Never  saw  anything  like  it.  In 
any  other  person  I  should  have  known  the  signs;  hut  who 
would  suspect  her  of  wanting  to  please  any  one  in  partic- 
ular?    But  it's  all  clear  now.      We've  settled  on  the  right 

"  Why,  Ellon,  he's  going  to  mairy  this  Laurence  girl 
himself!  " 


FIVE     THOUSAND     DOLLARS.  215 

"What !     The  man  she  loves  ?  " 

"As  true  as  I  sit  here — he  is  engaged  to  her!  It  all 
came  out  at  the  party.  Mrs.  Carter  told  it.  This  Ross  is 
her  brother,  you  know." 

"That  was  what  made  her  so  white  and  wild.  I  under- 
stand it  all  now.  That  is  why  she  kept  repeating  the  girl's 
name  in  her  sleep,  which  was  more  like  a  fit  than  natural 
slumber.     She  has  not  been  herself  since." 

"No,  you  are  right  there;  she  seems  like  one  stupefied 
by  a  blow — and  Ivon  is  not  much  better.  He  was  wild  as 
a  hawk  that  night.  Only  think  of  it — mother  and  son ; 
but  it  serves  him  right.  I  have  no  compassion  for  him,  and 
all  but  engaged  to  me." 

"  But  if  she  marries  this  Ross,  all  will  be  at  an  end  with 
Mr.  Ivon. 

"No,  it  won't.  He  thinks  her  the  loveliest,  the  most 
beautiful  and  accomplished  creature  in  the  world.  Being 
married  won't  hurt  her  with  him.  He  will  never  think 
any  one  fit  to  untie  her  shoes.  I  want  him  to  despise  her — 
hate  her.  I  want  to  break  up  this  match,  which  is  killing 
your  poor  mistress." 

"  But  how  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  What  is  the  good  of  being  rich  when 
the  thing  you  want  most  can't  be  got  for  money.  Oh,  if 
I  had  that  girl  under  my  feet  how  I  would  stamp  her 
down !  " 

Ellen  Post  seated  herself  by  the  window,  and  fell  into 
thought.  She  was  a  sharp,  even-tempered  schemer,  who  saw 
a  chance  of  killing  several  birds  with  one  stone,  if  it  only 
could  be  brought  about.  Her  ideas  were  crude  as  yet,  but 
she  saw  a  gleam  of  daylight  through  them. 

"Five  thousand  dollars!  Did  you  say  that,  Miss 
Spicer?" 

"  I  said  five  thousand  dollars.  I  don't  know  what  I  said, 
but  I'd  give  even  that.     But  what  is  the  good  ?  " 


216  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

a  And  you  mean  it  ?  " 

u  Mean  it  ?  No,  I  don't  mean  it,  for  the  tiling  isn't  possi- 
ble.    If  it  were  I  wouldn't  hesitate  a  moment." 

"  What  you  want  is  to  disgrace  the  girl,  so  that  neither 
of  these  men  would  think  of  marrying  her?" 

"  That  is  what  I  am  pining  for,  and  what  will  make  your 
lady  a  well  and  happy  woman.     It  is  for  her  sake." 

"Never  miud  !  I  see!"  said  Ellen,  interrupting  the 
young  lady  without  ceremony.  "  Now  there  are  various 
kinds  of  disgrace  ;  some  think  poverty  enough." 

"  ]>ut  that  won't  do  here  ;  she  is  poor  as  a  church  mouse 
already,  and  they  do  not  care  a  straw  for  it." 

"  Yes,  T  understand.  We  must  plunge  deeper  than  that. 
When  it  is  accomplished,  I  may  be  sure  of  the  five  thous- 
and?" 

"  I  might  promise  safely,  and  call  it  fifty  thousand  ;  but, 
if  it  is  possible  for  you  to  place  this  girl  in  a  position  which 
will  drive  all  honorable  men  from  her,  I  will  gladly  give  you 
the  sum  I  at  first  spoke  of." 

"  And  the  madam  ?  " 

"  She  must  know  nothing  of  this.  She  would  condemn  us, 
and  reject  our  help,  though  it  is  mostly  for  her  good,"  said 
the  young  lady,  with  emphasis.  "  This  must  rest  between 
you  and  myself.  If  another  soul  is  informed,  I  for  one  will 
throw  up  the  bargain." 

"  There  is  no  need  of  that,"  said  Ellen,  half  buried  in 
thought. 

"  Furthermore,  I  must  have  nothing  to  do  with  this,  only 
so  far  as  the  money  is  concerned." 

"  That  is  understood.  In  fact,  I  see  nothing  that  you 
could  be  of  use  in." 

"Of  course  not." 

"  Nor  do  I  see  how  an}'  one  can  act  as  yet ;  but  all  the 
same,  Miss  Spicer,  I  shall  earn  your  money." 

"Very  well;  I  don't  ask  how.  I  only  wish  for  a  thing, 
and  when  it  comes  to  pass,  give  so  much  money." 


MR.      M  A  H  O  N  E.  217 

"Five  thousand,"  said  the  maid. 

"  Five  thousand,"  answered  the  young  lady,  and  the  bar- 
gain was  closed. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

MR.    MAHOKE. 

Ellen  Post  went  down  to  the  kitchen  just  after  Boyce 
entered  it  with  his  basket  of  groceries,  and  there  she  found 
Robert  conversing  in  a  low,  eager  voice  with  the  grocer's 
clerk.  As  the  two  stood  together,  the  girl  remarked  the 
wonderful  likeness  that  existed  between  them,  in  form  and 
color.  Both  were  strong,  and,  if  not  tall,  well  built  and 
active.  Boyce  was  talking  earnestly,  and  glanced  around 
now  and  then  to  make  sure  that  no  one  was  listening. 
There  was  a  look  of  triumph  in  his  face,  that  Robert  seem- 
ed to  share,  for  he  smiled  broadly,  while  he  listened,  and 
laying  his  hand  on  the  clerk's  shoulder,  seemed  to  commend 
him  for  something  he  had  done. 

Ellen  Post  was  impatient,  and  watched  all  this  with  irrita- 
tion. She  wished  to  speak  with  Robert,  and  was  angry  that 
he  did  not  come  forward  the  moment  she  entered  the  room. 

"Mr.  Mahone,"  exclaimed  the  irate  maid.  "Mr.  Mahone, 
I  am  waiting  to  speak  with  you !" 

"  Mahone,"  repeated  Boyce,  with  a  sly  wink  at  the  foot- 
man. "  She  might  spell  that  with  five  letters,  and  begin 
them  with  a  B." 

Boyce  spoke  in  the  lowest  possible  voice,  but  Robert 
checked  him  severely,  almost  whispering. 

"  Hush,  you  young  rascal.  Don't  you  know  that  women 
have  sharp  ears.     Can  I  never  learn  you  to  be  prudent." 


21fi  I  II  I       B  SIGNING      BELLE. 

••  About  the  time  I  learn  yon  to  be  fair."  ansvrered  Boyce, 

a  Ijtth  .  remember,  this   time  you've  got 

the  mark.     I  don't  moan   to  do  all  the  work,  and 

■i  the  crumbs.     JSu  put  that  in  your   pipe,  and  smoke 

•■  Mr.  Mahon 

••  Yes,  M  M  I' ost,  the  minute  I  have  settled  up  with  this 

fellow.      He's  no  more  idea  of  figures  than  a  donkey.     Only 

•  be  always  makes    the    mistake  on  his  side.     As  I 

recommended  him  here,  you  understand,  it's  my  place  to  see 

rerything  is  on  the  square." 

P  et  gave  her  French  cap  a  toss  that  set  all  its  rib- 

bona  in  quick  motion,  and  would  have  left  the  room  in  high 

•  II.  but  for  the  business  that  she  had  in  hand.     As  it 

irched  up  to  the  young  men,  and  broke  up  their 

at  once. 

••  SToo    stay  here.     "We   may  have  something  to   say  to 

yon,"  Bhe  Baid,  addressing  Boyce,  as  if  she  had  been  that 

female   tyrant,   Elizabeth,   and   he   a  servant  in   her  path. 

'•.Mr.  Mahone  will  tell  you  if  you  are  wanted.     So  wait." 

I      ce  langhed  broadly,  and  took  a  seat  in  the  kitchen, 
while  Ellen   Post  and  Robert  went  to  the  servants'  parlor, 
and  shut  themsi  Ives  in,  the  maid  observing  that  the  cook 
]>r\ ! 1 1 ur  about,  and,  this  thing  being  serious,  they 
have  no  listeners.     With  this  caution,  she  seated  her- 
self on  the  hair-cloth  sofa,  and  invited  him,  with  her  eyes, 
nit  place  by  her  side. 
it,  nothing  loth,  took  the   seat,  and  his  arm  crept 
■Jong   the    back,   until   it  almost  embraced   the   long,   thin 
of  the  lady's   maid,  who  looked  around  sharply  to 
that  it  was  not  indecorously  near. 
••  Mr.  Mahonel" 

'■  ' '"'  My — my " 

'■  mind,  Robert;  this  is  business.     I  despise  mixing 
up  thii 


MR.      MAHONK  219 

"Business  is  pleasure,  where  you  are  concerned,  Miss 
Post." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  hope  it  will  lead  to  in  the  end,  for 
it's  a  great  thing,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Indeed  !  Well,  that  don't  astonish  me  !  You  was  horn 
to  great  things,  Miss  Post.     No  mistake  about  that!" 

"Which  lam  ready  to  share,"  answered  Ellen,  "for  it 
will  take  more  than  one  to  earn  five  thousand  dollars ! " 

"  Five  thousand  dollars  !  Why,  Ellen,  you  take  away  my 
breath." 

"  It  took  away  mine,  at  first ;  but  now  I  am  ready  for 
work.     Are  you  ?  " 

'Am  I  ready  to  make  five  thousand  dollars!  Try  me, 
that's  all." 

"  Bobert,  you  know  a  boy  by  the  name  of  Laurence.  He 
comes  here  with  groceries  now  and  then." 

"Yes,  I  know  all  about  him.  He's  in  the  same  store 
with  Boyce." 

"He's  got  a  sister?" 

"  Yes.     I've  seen  her.     A  stunning  girl." 

"That  girl  has  set  her  foot  on  Miss  Spicer ! " 

"  What !  There  must  be  some  mistake  about  that ;  they 
don't  travel  the  same  road." 

"  No  mistake  at  all.  I  know  what  I'm  saying.  More 
than  that,  she  has  offended  the  madam,  who  is  bitter  against 
her." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  " 

"  She  is  handsome." 

"  Stupendously  so.     Her  face  fairly  took  me  off  my  feet." 

"Mr.  Mahone?" 

Mr.  Mahone  dropped  his  arm,  and  almost  leaped  to  his 
feet ;  a  whole  volley  of  small  shot  rolled  off  in  that  one 
exclamation. 

"  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons.  Miss  Post.  I  was  speaking 
of  the  opinion  others  might  have.     As  for  me,  I  have  eyes 


TBI     REIGNING     BELLE. 

only  for  one  woman,  this  side  of  sunrise,  and  that  woman  is 
1  P 

'•  .Mr.  Mahone,  sit  down.     It  is  hard  when  the  heart  is 

l.d  to  stick  tn  business  ;  bat  stick  we  most." 
••  Well,  Ellen,  I  don't  object.     You  were  speaking  of  Miss 
Laurence.     I  know  all  about  her!" 

••  Bui  how  '.'  "  demanded  Ellen,  forgetting  business  again, 
in  a  sharp   lit  of  jealousy.     "  Mr.  Mahone,  do  you  visit  that 
ture  '.'  " 
"Me?  me?     Do  you  think  I  haven't  better  taste  than 
Mr.  [von?      lit-  vi.-its  her;  but,  as  for    me,   I'd  rather  be 
»ed,  n.it  being  necessitated  to  go  away  from  home."' 
-  is  not  1  > u: -in ess,"  exclaimed  Ellen,  growing  practi- 
cal, as  her  jealousy  was  appeased.     "  The  long  and  the  short 
of  it  is,  this  gir]  has  been  forcing  herself  into  the  company 
of  hei  1"  •;•  re,  which  neither  the  madam  or  Miss  Spicer  will 
i.      Mr.  [von  has  taken  to  her  iu  a  way  quite  ridicu- 
has  another  person  of  quite  as  much  importance. 
The  ladies  don't  want  her  to  cross  their  path  again.     We 
must  see  that  she  don't.'' 

"Tin-  Laurence  family,  root  and  branch,  must  be  brought 
t"  disgrace.  Being  poor  as  Jub's  cat  isn't  enough',  for  some 
rich  people  have  taken  them  up.  She  must  be  so  covered 
witli  shame,  that  no  one  will  have  the  courage  to  speak  to 
h.  r  in  tic 

"Bui   how   is   it   to  be  done.     We  might  get  up  a  big 

odalj    but     people    are    getting    shy    of    believing   such 

thin--,  when   they  come  from  the  basement;  but  for  that,  I 

am   capital    at    h uihling  castles  out  of  card-houses.      In  our 

line  now,  I  could  work  wonders  against  any  girl " 

any    girl,  Mr.  Maln.ne,"  broke   in  Ellen,  with  allot 
prida      "There  are  persons    that    slander    cannot 

'•  I  me ml  any  girl  like  that,  if  she  belonged  to  our  spear, 


A      BARGAIN      AT     LAST.  221 

Miss  Ellen.  Of  course,  there  are  women  as  high  as  the 
stars.  Having  a  sample  before  me,  I  can  say  that,  and  defy 
contradiction. 

"  The  girl  is  awful  proud  of  her  family ;  poor  hut  honest, 
you  know,"  said  Ellen,  once  more  mollified  to  the  busiuess 
poi  n  'c. 

"  Honest !  My  eyes !  that  is  good  !  Why,  Boyce  was 
just  telling  me  that  the  boy  has  been  robbing  like  sixty — 
hand  in  hand  with  a  lot  of  burglars.  It's  a  secret ;  but  the 
detectives  are  on  his  track  now." 


«  — »»  » 


CHAPTER  L. 

A   BARGAIN   AT   LAST. 

"  You  don't  say  so !  Oh,  Mr.  Mahone,  this  is  news ! 
Why,  just  as  like  as  not,  she's  leagued  in  with  him.  That 
whole  family  may  be  a  nest  of  thieves." 

"  A  nest  of  thieves — and  she  among  them,  I  shouldn't 
wonder! " 

"  Prove  it ;  fasten  it  upon  them  ;  have  the  thing  made 
public,  and  our  work  is  done." 

"  Would  that  be  enough  ?  " 

"  Certainl}'.  Could  any  girl  creep  out  of  a  nest  of 
thieves,  into  such  society  as  the  madam  and  Miss  Spicer 
move  in?  I  should  think  not." 

"  Would  it  be  enough  to  prove  the  boy  guilty  ? "  ques- 
tioned Robert,  thoughtfully. 

"  Xo :  she  will  want  more  than  that." 

"And  even  there  we  may  fail.  I  have  it — I  have  it! 
Don't  put  yourself  to  any  more  trouble.  The  whole  thing 
has  come  into  my  head  at  once.     1  only  hope  you  are  as  sure 


1 T  H  K     R  B  I  G  RING     BELL  E. 

of  the  money,  as  I  am  of  earning  it.     Five  thousand  you 
••" 
■•  Five  thousand  !  " 
••  M  :  ■  y  down  '.'  " 
••  Money  down  !  " 

••  Bat  the  division.  We  may  as  well  start  fair,  you  know, 
this  being  business  and  nothing  else." 

Ellen   Post  looked  down,  and  began  to  roll  up  her  cap- 

\\ith  both  hands;  then  she  unrolled  it,  ami  smoothed 

out  the  ribbon.     Something  was  douhtless  in  her  mind,  that 

•he  did    not   know    how  to  put  into    speech.     At  last  she 

faltered  out, 

••  Would  there  be  any  need  of  a  division?     I  thought — I 

thought,  perhaps,  that  you  might  prefer  the  wdiole,  which  is 

a  fortune  for  two  young  persons  just  starting  life  in  a  liquor 

store,  say,  or  a  first-class  boarding-house,  where  a  real  lady 

.  for  the  head  of  the  table.'' 

«Oh!" 

Ellen  looked  up  anxiously.  "What  did  that  emphatic 
"oh"  mean.  Had  Mahone  only  thought  of  this  for  the 
first  time  '.' 

The  face  she  cast  her  timid  eyes  upon  was  changing 
rapidly:  first,  a  red  (lame  darted  up  to  the  roots  of  his 
ruddy  hair,  then  the  color  melted  away,  and  a  slow  pallor 
vrr  it.  while  a  thoughtful  and  sinister  light  crept  into 
green  eyes.  Ellen  grew  fearfully  uneasy.  The 
thousands  she  coveted  would  lose  half  their  value,  unless 
Mahone  himself  was  counted  in. 

'oh,'  as  if  I  had  hinted  at  something  disagree- 
ably Mr.  Mahone?     If  so,  let  us  drop  the  subject.     Other 
•  •  can  be  found." 
Mali  1,  for  the  girl  spoke  in  bitter  earnest. 

her  |»-"i>!.',  my  dear '.'  " 
"  M  !  yon  pit  a 

'   D  n't    be  so   cold,   so  cruel  I     If    I  said    'oh,'    it  was 


A      BARGAIN     AT     LAST.  223 

because  a  prospect  of  happiness  broke  upon  me,  that  took 
away  my  breath." 

Here  Mahone  seized  the  hand  which  was  lifted  to  the 
cap-string  again,  and  repeated  the  naughty  word  oh,  oh,  oh, 
half  a  dozen  times  between  the  kisses  he  lavished  upon  it; 
but,  strange  to  say,  the  obnoxious  syllable  seemed  rather 
pleasant  to  her  than  otherwise  this  time.  Circumstances 
alter  cases,  you  know." 

"To  think  that  I  shall  have  a  creature  like  this,  and  five 
thousand  dollars,  all  in  a  breath.  I  cannot  believe  it.  If  a 
fortune-teller  had  foretold  it,  I  should  have  set  her  down  as 
a  rank  impostor,  and  refused  to  pay  her  fee.  But  now,  tell 
me,  my  Ellen,  is  it  real?  Not  the  money.  I  don't  care 
the  snap  of  my  finger  for  that!  But  is  it  possible  that  you 
love  me  ?" 

"  Love  you,  Bobert  ?     Mr.  Mahone,  I  mean  !  " 

"Oh,  call  me  Bobert;  do  call  me  Bobert !  " 

"Well,  I  will !  You  asked  if  I  loved  you  ?  I  who  never 
lifted  admiring  eyes  to  another  man  ;  had  you  no  eyes  to 
read  mine,  r.o  heart  to  hear  how  mine  was  beating  like  a — 
a  trip-hammer  against  my  side?     Did  you  never  suspect?" 

"  I  never  dared  to  hope ;  but  now — now  I  am  the  hap- 
piest man  alive !  You  will  not  talk  of  other  people  after 
this." 

There  was  a  tone  of  anxiety  in  this  last  question  quite  as 
sincere  as  the  protestations  he  had  made ;  but  Ellen  did 
not  observe  it. 

"  I  shall  talk  nor  think  of  no  one  but  you,  Bobert." 

Some  one  knocked  at  the  parlor  door,  rather  sturdily,  and 
broke  up  this  pleasant  scene,  which  might  have  lasted  for 
hours,  but  for  that.  Mahone  started  up,  and  opened  the 
door,  where  he  found  Boyce  flushed  with  impatience. 

"  I  thought  you  was  never  coming  out,"  he  said,  rudely 
enough.  "I  have  got  business  to  attend  to,  and  can't  sit 
waiting  here.     If  you've  got  any  more  to  say,  say  it  now." 


THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"  I'll  walk  with  you,  Boyce,"  answered  Kobert,  "if  Miss 
] '     •   r  ill  63     IBS  me." 

Mi--  Poel   bowed  with  condescension,  and  the  two  yoang 
men  wenl  Btreet  together. 

That   night  a  woman  who  lived  in  a  tall  tenement  house 
ry  tar  from   Smith's   grocery,  was  surprised  by  the 
entrance  of  two  men,  with  whom  she  was  doubtless  on  terms 
of  great  domestic  intimacy,  for  she  came  out  of  her  bed- 
room  half  dressed,  and  a  little  cross,  for  she  had  been  work- 
ing hard  all  day,  and  dropped  to  sleep   while  hushing  the 
child  upon  the  bed  she  had  found  no  time  to  make.     Some- 
what the  men  proposed  made  her  angry,  for  she  pro- 
.  and  had  fierce  words  with  the  tallest  of  her  visitors, 
who   rudely  ordered  her  to  be  silent,  and  go  back  to  her 
child.     "With  some  grumbling  she  obeyed  him. 

r  that,  these  men  came  up  and  down  the  numerous 

flights  of  stairs,  again  and  again,  carrying  burdens  on  their 

shoulders.      Then  a  wagon  drove  off,  and,  for  an  hour  or 

the  same  men  were  moving  like  shadows  around  the 

where  the  Laurence  family  lay  sleeping. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

A     BOY     IN     PRISON. 


THE  most  mournful  thing  that  I  have  ever  witnessed  was 
a  child  in  prison.  Once  I  Baw  a  hardened  little  sinner  of 
years,  laughing  at  his  mother  through  the  gratings 
of  a  cell-door.  This  child  was  evidently  proud  of  the 
adroit  theft  that  had  brought  him  to  that  disgraceful  pass, 
and  pot  «'ii  airs  that  an  old  criminal  would  have  been 
:  of,  while  the  poor  mother  looked  on  speechless 
with  wonder  and  di.-- 


A     BOY     IN      PRISON.  225 

In  the  same  prison,  and  in  a  cell  like  that,  a  boy  younger 
than  twelve,  knelt  the  week  after  Mrs.  Carter's  party — knelt 
and  prayed  by  the  meagre  prison-bed,  which  shook  under 
the  fearful  power  of  his  weeping.  Once  he  lifted  up  his 
face,  and  looked  wildly  around  his  dungeon.  Then  his  face 
fell,  and  a  shudder  passed  over  him.  A  grave,  walled  in 
with  stone,  could  not  have  been  so  terrible.  Eternal  disgrace 
seemed  to  have  closed  him  in  forever.  Alas!  alas!  what 
had  he  done  to  deserve  such  hard  treatment !  What  would 
become  of  his  mother,  whom  he  had  fondly  believed  him- 
self protecting?  The  two  sisters,  so  lovely  and  good,  who 
had  really  looked  up  to  him,  and  loved  him  dearly — would 
they  ever  speak  his  name  again  without  blushes! 

How  fearfully  lonesome  it  was.  The  strange,  close 
atmosphere  oppressed  him  like  the  breath  of  a  pestilence. 
The  cold  whiteness  of  the  walls  chilled  him.  Over  and  over 
he  repeated  the  Lord's  Prayer — the  most  holy  words  that 
ever  came  from  a  child's  lips;  but  they  seemed  insufficient 
to  his  anguish,  and  he  cried  out,  "  Oh,  Father !  Oh,  my 
God  !  keep  this  from  them  !  Let  me  drop  down  dead  here, 
and  I  will  not  say  a  word;  only  do  not  let  them  know.  It 
would  kill  them !     It  would  kill  them  !  " 

Then  the  poor  boy  would  rest  a  little  time  in  deadly  quiet, 
as  if  he  expected  God  to  answer  him  then  and  there  ;  but 
instead  of  the  still,  small  voice  that  he  listened  for,  came 
the  clang  of  the  cell-door,  and  a  fierce  cry  of  distress  from 
some  prisoner  just  brought  in.  This  semi-lunatic  from 
drink,  pleaded  for  brandy  just  as  earnestly  as  he  prayed  for 
help,  but  in  language  which  made  him  shudder,  as  if  the 
torment  of  some  great  crime  were  already  upon  him. 

The  night  closed  in  upon  him,  filling  the  prison  with 
heavy  gloom,  inexpressibly  mournful.  The  grating  of  that 
iron-door  was  closed :  slowly  the  gray  shadows  of  sunset  fell 
through  the  long,  narrow  slit  of  stone,  so  cut  in  the  wall 
that  God's  beautiful  sunshine  could  never  creep  through, 
14 


T  11  1.      ft  BIG  Ml  N  G      B  B  LLE. 

an  awful  darkness  fell  upon  him.     The  clang  of  each 

into  place  along  those  long  iron  galleries, 

had  goue  through  and  through  him  like  a  dull  sword.     The 

p  of  the  keeper,  walking  from  cell  to  cell,  seemed 

to  fall  on  hia  hi 

The  1>"V  did  not  Bleep   that  night,  but  shrunk  away  from 

hia  bed  Bhuddering.     Its  heavy,  gray  blankets  seemed  laden 

with    disease  and  sorrow  left  by  some  one   who  had  gone 

The  dull  atmosphere  of  the  prison    settled    down 

upon   him  with  Bickening  density.     Into  the  farthest  corner 

of  his  whitewashed  cell  he  shrunk,  and  cowering  there,  like 

ir  wounded  fawn  in  its  covert,  listened  to  all  the 

-  of  the-  night  with  ears  rendered  keen  by  terror.     The 

Bmothered  moans  of  the  prisoners,  the  scuttle  of  rats  about 

the  water-pipes,  the  tramp  of  the  keeper  on  the  stone  pave- 

it,  far  below,  all  had  a  weird  effect   upon   him,  which 

amounted  almost  to  mad' 

la  it  strange  that  the  boy  did  not  sleep,  and  that  he 
Crouched  low  in  that  dark  corner  all  night  long?  The  dull 
gray  of  the  morning  found  him  there  pale,  still,  and  wildly 
expectant,  as  if  the  next  thing  that  could  reach  him  must 
be  death  itself.  Then  came  the  clang  of  opening  doors, 
the  harsh  sound  of  feet  moving  to  and  fro  on  the  stone 
pavement,  a  confusion  of  voices  in  command,  complaint, 
piteous  expostulation,  and  coarse  oaths;  for  bad  men  might 
haiued  by  the  ankle,  but  nothing  could  manacle  the  vile 
ch  to  which  tluy  had  become  so  used  that  it  was  second 
nature  to  them. 

.  this  boy  had  been  bred  among  women,  gentle. 

women  who  feared,  or  rather  loved  God,  and  were  kind  to 

each  other.     Even  his  mother,  though  silent,  and  sometimes 

a  little  unsympathi  t  ic,  was  rigid  in  her  ideas  of  religion,  and 

ted    nothing  coarse  or  wicked,  either  in  speech  or 

thought.      Bo    the    hoy    had    learned    all    that   a   delicate    girl 

ild  1  mi  j  and  this,  added  to  his  natural  manli- 


A      BOY      IN      PRISON.  227 

ness,  had  made  him  far  more  refined  and  gentle  than  lads 
of  his  age  usually  are.  He  was  not  the  less  spirited  and 
ambitious  because  of  the  refinement  which  sprang  out  of 
his  home  life.  Real  energy  is,  in  fact,  all  the  more  effective 
when  a  clear  conscience  and  cultivated  mind  directs  it,  both 
in  child  and  man. 

But  what  could  energy  avail  the  lad  in  that  dreary  place  ? 
He  had  nothing  to  struggle  against ;  a  vague  idea  that  he 
was  suspected  of  crime,  and  brought  there  to  suffer  some  ter- 
rible punishment,  preyed  upon  him,  but  what  the  charge 
was,  or  how  to  help  himself,  was  bej'ond  his  power  of  con- 
jecture. 

Some  bread,  and  a  teacupful  of  dark  liquid  the  keeper 
spoke  of  as  coffee,  was  brought  to  the  cell  where  he  sat  trem- 
bling and  fearfully  expectant.  The  poor  boy  turned  his 
face  away  from  this  food  with  sick  loathing.  It  seemed  as  if 
he  could  never  eat  or  drink  again. 

The  keeper,  who  was  at  heart  a  kind  man,  took  compas- 
sion on  the  gentle  helplessness  of  this  poor  child,  and  strove 
to  comfort  him  with  hopes  of  a  speedy  relief;  but  James  only 
shook  his  head,  and  great  tears  rose  and  trembled  in  his  eyes. 
He  could  have  stood  abuse  bravely,  but  kindness  melted  his 
young  heart,  and  tears  dropped  like  rain  from  his  downcast 
eyes  while  that  sympathetic  voice  filled  the  dungeon.  As 
he  sat  thus  the  shadow  of  another  official  fell  across  the 
threshold  of  his  cell,  and  a  loud  and  indifferent  voice  called 
out, 

"  James  Laurence!  " 

The  boy  started  up  and  followed  this  man  into  the  prison 
yard.  He  had  scarcely  stepped  upon  the  stone-flags,  when 
two  officers  passed  him,  leading  a  woman  toward  the  female 
prison.  The  boy  saw  her  face,  and  flinging  out  his  arms 
cried  out, 

u  Mother !  mother  !  oh,  mother  ! " 


_  _  -  t  II  K       I!  r  I  fi  N  I  N  G      BELL  E. 

CHAPTEK  LII. 

THE     SECOND     ARREST. 

Smith  had  acted  with  a  stern,  secret  energy.  Without 
consulting  his  wife,  or  any  one  but  an  iron-hearted  detective, 
he  had  qnietly  arrested  little  James  Laurence,  and  lodged 
him  in  the  Tombs.  Early  the  next  morning,  while  Mrs. 
Laurence  was  busy  cooking  her  meagre  breakfast,  a  strange 
man  stepped  into  the  kitchen,  boldly,  as  if  it  had  been  his 
own  home,  and  told  her  to  get  her  things,  and  not  attempt 
to  raise  a  muss  about  it,  because  it  was  of  no  use  ;  her  son 
lught,  and  nicely  caged.  She  was  known  to  be  his 
accomplice — in  fact,  the  person  who  had  no  doubt  sefThim 
On.  At  any  rate  he  had  a  warrant  against  her,  as  a 
receiver,  and  she  had  better  obey  it  just  then  and  there. 
The.  stolen  goods  had  been  found  in  her  out-house,  and  he 
was  after  the  money  .-harp  ;  must  search  the  house  for  that, 
but  not  till  she  was  disposed  of  according  to  law.  Was  she 
ready  ? 

Mrs.  Laurence  heard  all  this  in  stern  astonishment.  She 
had  been  cutting  bread,  and  stood  with  the  knife  in  one 
hand,  grasping  the  loaf  in  the  other,  motionless  as  stone. 

"Me?  Me,  and  my  son  James?  Are  you  speaking  of 
she  said  at  la>t.  ''What  have  you  done  with  him? 
What  do  you  want  of  me?" 

"Jusl  as  it'  you  didn't  know.  Well,  if  you  will  have  it, 
I  want  you  to  step  out  before  a  justice,  and  answer  for  your- 
lelf." 

••   \  DSWer  for  what  ?  " 

Bobbery  I      I    think     they'd    call    this 
burglary,  only    the  boy    was  in  the    house,  and  SO,  of  course, 
i  only  break  out,  if  breaking  was  to  be  done." 
"Stealing  I     Robbery!" 


THE     SECOND      ARREST.  229 

These  words  fell  from  the  woman's  lips  like  lead  dropping 
on  marble.  A  stupor  of  astonishment  seemed  turning  her 
to  stone. 

"  My  boy !  James,  my  boy  !  You  said  something 
strange  about  him  ;  horribly  strange,  it  seems  to  me." 

"I  said  that  we  had  him  safe  in  the  Tombs,  where  you 
will  be  mighty  quick,  or  I'm  mistaken.  But,  come  along; 
it's  the  best  way.  The  gentleman  wanted  me  to  get  through 
without  making  a  fuss  in  the  neighborhood.  So  get  your 
things,  and- " 

"  What  is  this  ?     Mother,  who  is  this  man  ?  " 

Mrs.  Laurence  instantly  came  out  of  the  icy  trance  that 
had  settled  on  her  faculties,  and  answered  sharply, 

"  A  person  on  business,  Eva.  I  believe  I  am  going  out ; 
tell  your  sister  so,  and  bring  my  bonnet." 

Eva  detected  nothing  in  the  cold,  steady  voice  of  her 
mother  to  occasion  alarm,  and  went  into  the  next  room  for 
the  bonnet  and  shawl,  which  she  usually  wore  to  market. 

Mrs.  Laurence  took  these  things  from  her  hand,  and  put 
them  on.  There  was  no  tremor  of  the  fingers  when  she 
tied  her  bonnet-strings ;  no  heave  or  flutter  of  the  bosom, 
when  the  faded  shawl  was  folded  over  it.  This  poor  woman 
had  been  so  used  to  bearing  her  own  burdens  in  silence, 
that  even  this  fearful  shock  was  endured  with  speechless 
heroism. 

"  Girls,"  she  said,  looking  in  at  the  parlor-door,  and 
speaking  rather  more  cheerfully  than  usual,  "  don't  wait  for 
me,  but  eat  your  breakfast ;  Eva  must  not  be  late." 

Euth  looked  up,  and  answered,  smiling,  in  her  meek, 
sweet  way,  "  that  she  would  rather  wait.  Eva,  of  course, 
must  go." 

There  was  no  answer  to  this,  and  a  minute  after  Euth 
saw  her  mother  go  through  the  gate,  followed  by  that  strange 
man. 

"  I  wonder  if  it's  anything  about  the  mortgage  ?  "  she 


230 


TUT.      RBIGN1  N  9      BELLE. 


I  months  more,  and  I  should 
Eva,  dear,"  she  said,  in  answer  to 
something  her  Bister  had  .suggested.     "I  have  no  appetite 
just  now,  and  will  wait  for  mother." 
Wait  for  motberl    1W  girl! 


CHAPTER  LI II. 

•i  in:  woman   IH  THE  LAUNDRY. 

That  morning,  a  woman,  rather  young  but  meanly  clad, 
and  appearing  miserably  over-worked,  came  into  Mrs.  Lara- 
kitchen.     Sim  was  conducted  to  the  laundry  by  the 
whose  department  had  fallen  so  woefully  behind  hand 
in  the  way  of  table-linen,  that  she  considered  a  little  out- 
side help  necessary.     The  woman  who    was  usually  called 
upon,  when  such    occasions  arose,  happened  to  be  ill,  and 
Dt   this  haggard  young  person,  who  lived  in  the  same 
tenement-house,  as  a  substitute.     The  laundry  in  which  her 
work  lay  was  a  little  dark,  and  for  that  reason  the  door  lead- 
Dto  the  kitchen  was  left  partly  open. 
During  the  morning  a  young  man  came  in,  carrying  a 
t  of  groceries,  and,  while  the  cook  was  heaping  the 
different  articles  on  a  table,  the  two  fell  into  conversation. 
When  the  washerwoman's  eyes  fell  on  this  young  man, 
ipped   work,  and   the  napkin  she  was  rubbing  rolled 
down  the  wash-board  into  the  suds,  while  she  held  on  to  a 
■  the  tub  with  each  hand,  looking  keenly  through  the 
■  quite  unseen. 
•■  I   bad  to  do  it  mysejfaihis  morning,"  said  the  youth, 
ting  the  •  lanse  '>ur  boy's  been  and  got  took 

op  for  help  :'        'Hi. 7 

t  tbat  pretty,  dark-eyed  Vfl^ic  fellow  that  comes  hero 

I 


THE     WOMAN      IN     THE      LAUNDRY.         231 

generally  of  late,"  said  the  cook,  with  something  like  regret 
in  her  voice. 

"Yes,  just  him;  and  no  mistake  ahout  that.  He  was 
took  to  the  Tombs  last  night." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !     What  did  he  take  ?  " 

"  Money,  and  lots  on  lots  of  groceries  —  tea  worth  its 
weight  in  gold  ;  lots  of  things." 

"  But  what  could  he  do  with  them  ?  " 

"Well,  it's  all  out  now,  and  I  don't  mind  your  knowing 
about  it.  The  boy's  mother  is  a  sly  old  party,  poor  as  a 
wharf-rat,  and,  oh  my,  how  crafty !  She  sot  the  boy  on, 
and  hid  the  things  for  him  in  the  wood-house.  The  detec- 
tive found  them  there.  Now,  tell  me,  do  you  want  any 
better  proof  than  that  ?  "  .*■ 

"Then  they  found  the  things  on  the  premises  ?  " 

"  That's  just  what  they  did,  and  this  morning  the  old 
woman  was  walked  off  by  a  policeman.     I  saw  her  go." 

"  Well,  I'm  awful  sorr}T  for  the  boy,"  said  the  good-na- 
tured cook;  "he  seemed  such  a  nice  little  shaver.  Them 
eyes  didn't  look  dishonest;  but  there  is  no  knowing  who  to 
trust  these  times." 

"Exactly  !  Shouldn't  wonder  if  soma  one  was  to  suspect 
me,  one  of  these  days.  The  more  innercent  a  feller  looks, 
the  more  suspicious,  say  I.  But,  tell  me,  is  Mr.  Mahone 
about?  I'd  just  like  to  speak  a  word  with  him,  if  you'll  be 
kind  enough  to  look  him  up." 

The  cook  laid  a  paper  parcel  on  the  table,  and  good-na- 
turedly went  in  search  of  Mr.  Mahone,  observing, 

"  He's  more  than  likely  in  the  servants'  parlor,  with  Ellen 
Post.  Now  you've  told  me  some  news  that'll  give  me  a  fit 
of  mournfulness  all  day  long,  so  I'll  just  rertalerate,  and  tell 
you  something  worth  while.  Mr.  Mahone  and  Ellen  Post 
are  engaged.  They're  going  to  be  married  right  out  of 
hand.     She's  going  to  open  a  first-class  boarding-house,  and 

he Well,  I  suppose  he'll  do  like  the  rest  of  'em,  and 

keep  up  the  marketing." 


282  Til  B      BEIONIMG      BELLE. 

le,  full  of  snow-white  linen,  stood  near  the 
door  where  these  two  persona  were  talking.  The  woman  at 
the  wash-tab,  who  had  become  strangely  interested,  as  the 
conversation   went  on,  stole  softly  behind  this  screen,  and 

Bt 1  close  to  the  wall,  not  three  feet  from  the  cook  anu  her 

companion.  She  heard  all  that  they  were  saying,  and  the 
atence  brought  a  flash  of  fire  to  her  dark  eyes.  "Why 
she  could  not  herself  have  told,  for  she  knew  of  no  person 
named  Mahone,  and  she  had  never  heard  of  Ellen  Post  in 
bet  life.  Still  the  fire  was  in  her  eyes,  and  a  sharp  throb 
of  nameless  suspicion  in  her  heart. 

I     :  a  moment  the  young  man  Boyce  was  silent,  then  a 
low  Bhrill  whistle  broke  from  him. 

that's  his  little  game,  is  it!  Well,  all  right.  Just 
say  that  I'm  here  and  a  waiting  to  speak  with  him.  I"ll 
Stay  here.*' 

cook  having  disposed  of  her  groceries,  gave  the 
empty  basket  to  Boyce,  and  went  into  the  servants'  parlor. 

Directly   the   footman   came   out,   looking    flushed   and 
anxious. 

"  I-  it  you,  Boyce?"  he  said,  pausing  close  to  the  laun- 
dry-door, and  peering  in  to  be  sure  the  room  was  empty. 
■I  .        '   ;    inside  here,  and  be  quick;  you  and  I  must  not 
be    seen    together   much    just   now.     Well,    what    is    it? 
Sp<  ak  Ion  '  " 

••  The  old  woman,  Mrs.  Laurence,  was  arrested  this  morn- 

•'  Ml  right!      Hut  how  do  you  know?" 
"  1     tood  in  the  store,  and  saw  the  man  go  that  way;  you 
kfl  in   fidl  sight.      By  just  stepping  under 
the  awning  I  can  see  the  vines  on  the  porch,  and  that  crowd 
of  flowers  in  fl 

■  I '       Mi     Smith  know  yet  ?" 

ust    found    it    out,  and    pitched    into  her 
bosband  awful     He's  satisfied,  and  won't  give  way  an  inch. 


THE      WOMAN      IN      THE      LAUNDRY.        233 

But  isn't  she  on  the  rampage !     The  worst  of  it  is,  I've  got 
to  go  before  the  justice,  and  I  tell  }rou  it's  unpleasant." 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  are  in  for  it,  and  must  go  through.  Any- 
thing else  ?  " 

"Yes;  something  that  the  cook  told  me.  Tell  me,  old 
fellow,  have  you  put  your  foot  in  it  to  the  extent  of  saddling 
3'ourself  with  another  sweetheart.  She  talks  of  your  being 
engaged,  of  a  wedding,  and  so  forth.  How  much  of  this  is 
true  ?  " 

The  footman  drew  Boyce  farther  into  the  room,  and  shut 
the  door. 

"  I  say  Boj'ce,  if  I  was  to  marry  a  woman,  with  more  than 
five  hundred  dollars  laid  up  from  wages,  and  five  thousand  a 
pretty  sure  thing,  would  you  stand  by  me?" 

"  Through  thick  and  thin  ;  so  long  as  we  shared ! " 
answered  Boj-ce,  holding  out  his  hand,  and  working  his  long 
fingers  like  the  claws  of  a  bird. 

"  Of  course,  I  should  be  liberal.  Brothers  are  brothers, 
you  know." 

"  Yes,  and  don't  they  grind  one  another  down  ?  Oh,  no, 
never!  It  isn't  in  the  natur  of  one  to  do  nothing,  and  take 
all  he  can  grip  at.  He  never  lets  any  one  take  risks  of  the 
law  for  him.     Oh,  no!" 

"  But  you  will  run  no  risk  when  I  marry  Ellen  Post. 
The  law  comes  on  me  there." 

"  Exactly.  But  I  come  between  you  and  the  law,  having 
seen  you  married  to  that  other  woman,  and  knowing  just 
where  she's  to  be  found  any  minute." 

"  Well,  well,  you  will  not  be  unreasonable  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !     But  won't  she  cut  up  rusty  ?  " 

"  How  is  she  to  find  out  ?  What  does  Mary  Boyce  know 
about  Robert  Mahone?  Why,  she  don't  know  who  I  am 
living  with.  In  fact,  thinks  I'm  tending  bar  in  some  place 
where  women  never  come  ;  generally  out  of  business  though, 
or  I  shouldn't  get  a  share  of  her  earnings." 


1  H  l.      B  i:  IGNING     BELLE. 

■■  VI  v  ii  mean  to  do  it.  anyhow?" 

••  y,  made  up  my  mind.     Such  a  pile  of  money 

tumble  in  upon  a  fellow  without  some  risk;  so  I'll 
Stand  the  racket,  especially  as  Ellen  Post  is  a  splendid 
crct 

••  1  [andsomei  than  Mary  ?  " 
•  N  i  comparison  ;  but  you've  seen  her.     She  was  out  here 

thet  day." 
••  What !     That  woman  with  the  cap  and  ribbons  ?     You 
don't  say  bo;  golly!  here  she  comes,  and  I'm  off.     Don't 
want  to   be   introduced  to  my  new  sister-in-law  just  yet. 
light  put  on  airs." 
With   these  words  Boyce  stepped  into  the  kitchen,  took 
up  his  basket,  and  left  the  house. 


CHAPTER    LIV 

PBEPAKING   FOR   THE   WEDDIXG. 

"Hs.  Kahonb!     Mr.Mahonel     Is  there  any  news?" 
said  \.         1'   -:.  advancing  toward  the  laundry. 

"Hush  I     Step  in  here;  the  cook  is  always  prowling  in 

■  of  that  room.     That's  right.     Shut  the  door.     You 

king  about  news.     Yes,  indeed,  that  boy  was  arrested 

lay.     This  morning  an  officer  is  after  the  old  woman 

—  two  of  the  Laurence  family  are  in  for  it.     As  for  that 

girl,  Era,  I'm  afraid  we  can't  fasten  on  her  just  yet." 

"Oh,   we  can  wait  for  her.     Mrs.  Lambert's  agent  was 

is    morning    about  foreclosing  a  mortgage    on    the 

Tiny  haren't    kept    Dp  the    int. Test.      I  don't   think 

•he'd  order  them  turned  out,  much  as  she  hates  them.     So 

I    told    bun   she   was   sick  ;    but    I'd  take    up    his  message, 

which  was  to  ask  for  directions.     .She  was  asleep  on  the  sofa, 


PREPARING      FOR     THE     WEDDING.  235 

so  I  told  him  that  she  was  not  well  enough  to  talk  about 
business,  but  wanted  this  troublesome  mortgage  closed  up  at 
once,  without  bothering  her  again  about  it." 

"That  was  a  ten  strike,"  said  the  admuing  Robert. 

"  So,  when  they  get  back  from  prison,  their  shanty  will  be 
gone,  and  we  shall  have  rooted  them  out,  trunk  and  branch. 
I'm  sure  that  must  satisfy  Miss  Spicer." 

"  Yes.  If  she  don't  pay  the  five  thousand  down  after 
that,  she's  no  lady." 

"  Which  she  is,"  answered  Ellen,  with  emphasis.  "Why, 
the  verj'  last  night,  she,  knowing  what  was  between  us,  Mr. 
Mahone,  gave  me  a  white-silk  dress,  only  twice  worn,  with 
real  lace  on  the  sleeves  and  bosom,  and  a  wreath  of  white 
flowers,  which  she  says  are  just  as  fashionable  for  brides  as 
orange-blossoms,  which  she  hasn't  had  any  use  for  as  yet — 
rnore's  the  shame  to  Mr.  Ivon,  who  behaves  as  no  gentle- 
man has  a  right  to." 

"  Well,  no  one  can  say  that  we  haven't  done  our  share. 
"When  will  she  pay  over,  my  dear?"  questioned  Mahone, 
drawing  Ellen  tenderly  toward  him. 

"  Just  as  soon  as  we  are  married.  I  asked  her,  and  she 
said  that." 

"She  did?  Well,  well!  When  will  that  be?  With 
the  wedding  dress  all  ready,  we  might  have  it  in  the  base- 
ment-parlor, within  a  week." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Mahone,  think  of  it?  I  couldn't.  The  cake 
— the  invitations." 

"  Hang  the  cake!  and  as  for  inform I  beg  pardon, 

invitations ;  the  genteel  thing  is  a  strictly  private  wed- 
ding." 

"  A  private  wedding,  and  that  dress  ?  Such  a  silk  !  You 
could  almost  stand  it  alone  !  " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  But  who  does  a  bride  dress  for  but 
her  admiring  husband  ?  I  shall  worship  you  in  that  bridal 
robe  and  them  flowers  ;  but  don't  ask  me  to  share  the  beau- 


T  II  K      R  B  I G  N  I  N  Q     BE  L  L  E. 

tiful   Bight  with  any  other  man.     I  couldn't  stand  it,  being 
that  j<  alous." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Mahone,  I  had  bo  Bet  my  heart  upon  it." 

I    my  heart  on  you,  Ellen.     Just  a  car- 
rh  you  and  your  adorer  in  it,  the  white  silk  dress  a 
rastliog  around    your  lovely  person,  trimmed  with  flowers 
white      Well,  yes,  white,  as  bridal  flowers  ought  to  be." 
••  What  ;     Without  bridemaids  ? — without  witnesses?" 
"  My  ]<n-e,  I  have  thought  of  that.      There  is  my  friend 
B  yce,  a  genteel  fellow,  in  the  grocery  line,  who  has  a  sweet- 
ie .ut  of  his  own.  a  Miss  Gorman,  splendid  old  Irish  name  ; 
not  to  be  compared  with  yours  of  course,  but  still  respectable 
on  a  certificate,  very." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Mahone,  you  seem  to  have  settled  every- 
thing,"  cried  Ellen,  half  angry,  half  elated. 

"Always  under  your  wishes,  being  only  your  shadow 
and  nothing  more,  Miss  Ellen,  and  having,  in  fact,  no  will 
of  my  own,  nor  wanting  any." 

3o  private  I    So  soon  !    I  really  don't  know  what  to  say, 
Mr.  M.il;    ■ 

"  Let  me  say  it  for  you,  dearest  of  women  ;  let  me  take 
this  modest  hesitation  for  yes.     May  I — may  I?" 
'•  Mr.  Mahone,  you  may." 

A  moment  after  this  consent  was  given,  the  betrothed 
pair  stole  from  the  laundry,  Mahone  first  and  Miss  Post 
She  passed  the  cook  with  a  lofty  fling  of  the  head, 
and  apologized  with  mock  humility  for  her  presence  in  a 
place  B0  Ear  outof  her  usual  element  as  a  kitchen,  at  which 
the  cook  said  '•  Scat,"  which  certainly  did  seem  a  little  out 
of  place,  as  no  cat,  black  or  white,  was  disturbing  the  tran- 
quillity of  the  r.",;,,. 

Not  ten  minutes  after  this  the  washerwoman  came  out  of 
the  laundry  with  her  bonnet  and  shawl  on,  white  as  a  ghost, 
hut  with  undaunted  tire  in  her  eyes.  In  fact  the  poor 
drudge  luukcd  full  uf  life,  and  almost  haudsome ;  a  very  dif- 


PREPARING      FOR     THE      WEDDING.  237 

ferent  woman  from  the  jaded  and  hopeless  creature  who  had 
crept  into  the  house  with  such  humility  only  a  few  hours 
before. 

"  You  will  please  excuse  me,  I  am  not  well  enough  for 
hard  work  to-day  ;  for  the  whole  world  I  couldn't  get  out 
another  piece." 

The  woman  said  this  in  a  quick,  eager  way,  as  if  she  had 
quite  determined  on  going,  whether  her  apology  was  accept- 
ed or  not. 

The  cook  would  have  argued  with  her,  but  the  whole 
matter  was  cut  short  hy  the  woman  walking  abruptly  out 
of  the  house. 

Meantime  Ellen  Post  knocked  at  the  door  of  Miss 
Spicer's  room.  That  young  lady  turned  the  latch  with  her 
own  hand. 

"Was  that  Mr.  Lambert  that  just  came  in?  I  thought 
it  was  his  step  on  the  stairs?  " 

"No,  Miss,"  answered  Ellen,  confidentially.  "It's  only 
me  ;  but  I've  got  good  news.  The  old  woman  and  her  boy 
are  both  in  the  hands  of  a  policeman.  Would  it  be  conve- 
nient to  let  me  have  that  amount  ?  " 

'•When  they  are  convicted  !  "  answered  Miss  Spicer,  clos- 
ing the  door  abruptly. 

Ellen  Post  stood  for  a  moment  in  blank  amazement,  then 
she  gave  her  head  a  toss  and,  speaking  to  herself,  said 
sharply, 

"  We  shall  see  !     We  shall  see  ! " 


2     -  Til  K     B  SIGHING     BELLE. 

CHAPTEB    LY. 

I   v  A  'a    I  i:  U  PTATION. 

Ev  \    L\i  i:i\<  i:  had  no  appetite  for  breakfast,  and  lin- 

1  about  home  long  after  she  should  have  been  at  her 

duties  at  the  store.     There  was   something  so  unusual   in 

her  mother's   going  out  very  early  in  the  morning  with  a 

inge    man,  that   both   the  girls    were  greatly  disturbed, 

though  each  strove  to  hide  her  anxiety  from  the  other. 

<  mce  Eva  put  on  her  bonnet,  and  went  as  far  as  the  gate, 
on  her  way  down  town;  but,  after  lingering  there  a  minute, 
she  came  back  again. 

"I  cannot  go,  Euthy,"  she  said,  with  keen  anxiety  in 
her  voice  and  manner.  "  Where  has  she  gone?  It  is  now 
two  hours  !     What  can  have  become  of  her?  " 

Ruth  could  hardly  answer.  Her  eyes  were  full  of 
trouble  ;  her  delicate  form  trembled  all  over.  She  clutched 
nervously  at  the  cushions,  but  still  persisted  in  saying, 

"Oh,  she  will  be  home  again  before  long.  Nothing  can 
have  happened." 

"I  will,  at  any  rate,  stay  here  till  she  comes,"  said  Eva, 
taking  off  the  outer  garments  she  had  put  on.  "I  wonder 
where  James  is?  Mrs.  Smith  ought  not  to  keep  him  all 
night  so  often.  She  might  reflect  how  lonesome  we  are 
Without  him." 

'•It  is  strange;  lie  is  always  sure  to  run  in  during  the 
morning,"  said  Ruth,  shaking  like  a  flower  in  the  wind, 
with  weird  terror  of  some  unknown  evil.  ''"What  is 
thai 

Eva  ran  to  the  window— the    gate  had  opened.      Tt  might 

'"'  her  ther.     No.  it  was  Mr.  Ross  coming  leisurely  up 

the  walk.  He  saw  Eva,  and  smiled.  She  could  not  answer 
this  pleasant  greeting,  but  hurried  to  the  door,  anxious  and 
breath 


EVA'8      TEMPTATION'.  239 

"Oh,  "My.  Ross,  do  you  bring  us  any  news?  We  are  so 
anxious." 

"About  what,  my  child?" 

"Why  mother  has  been  out  since  early  this  morning. 
A  man  came  here  before  breakfast,  and  she  went  with  him." 

"Well,  what  do  you  fear?  It  is  not  noon  yet.  How 
frightened  you  look !  There,  there,  your  mother  is  sure  to 
come  back  safely.  She  is  not  a  woman  to  run  into 
danger." 

The  cool,  good  sense  of  their  visitor  tranquilized  the  girls, 
and  they  made  strong  efforts  to  be  cheerful. 

"As  for  my  part,"  said  Ross,  sitting  down  near  Ruth, 
"I  am  rather  glad  she  is  away.  The  matter  I  came  to  talk 
about  does  not  require  her  presence  just  yet.  Eva,  I  have 
come  from  my  sister,  who  renews  the  offer  half  made  to  you 
some  nights  ago.  We  desire,  very  much,  that  you  should 
come  to  us,  and  be  a  part  of  our  household.  Carter  is 
willing,  his  wife  desires  it,  and  I  ask  no  greater  blessing 
than  to  look  upon  you  as  my  own  child." 

Eva  started  up,  clasping  her  hands  with  a  thrill  of  un- 
thinking joy;  but  they  fell  apart  hopelessly. 

"  Oh,  sir  !  Oh,  my  friend  !  I  cannot ;  it  is  impossible  ! 
To  leave  my  family  now,  when  my  work  is  of  so  much  use, 
would  be  cruel  beyond  anything.  Look  at  poor  Ruthy. 
The  first  thought  of  it  has  set  her  trembling!" 

Eva's  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  The  idea  of  this  offer  had 
haunted  her  with  temptations,  which  she  resisted,  now  that 
trouble  was  in  the  house  with  double  force. 

Mr.  Ross  smiled.  He  did  not  like  the  girl  less  for  this 
generous  clinging  to  her  home  duties. 

"  It  would  be  better  a  thousand  times,"  cried  Eva,  with 
passionate  warmth,  "  that  you  took  Ruthy ;  though  what 
on  earth  we  should  do  without  her,  I  cannot  tell.  She, 
with  her  genius  and  goodness,  might  be  a  blessing  in  any 
house,  while  I  am  only  useful  here." 


T  II  B      B  BIGNIKG      BELLE. 

••  Mv  dear  child,  how  quick  you  are  to  decide.     We  do 

anything  from  your  family;  on  the  con- 

partially  leaving  it,  every  one  will  be  benefited. 

Is  to  settle  upon  Mrs.  Laurence  five  times 

the  amount  yon  can  earn.     I  propose  to  put  that  fiue  little 

.   your   brother,  into  school,  and  after  that,  through 

college.     As   for    Miss  Ruth   here,  if  she   will   remain    my 

pupil  a  few  months  longer,  there  will  be  no  need  of  your 

toil.     Her  pencil  will  do  far  more  than  your  labor." 

E  ■  i  looked  at  her  sister  in  wouder.  There  she  lay, 
blushing  like  a  wild-rose,  trembling  like  its  leaves,  and 
smiling  in  spite  of  the  fears  that  had  so  oppressed  her — a 
creature  so  delicate  and  frail,  that  helplessness  seemed  her 
portion  forever.  Could  it  be  possible,  that  pure  genius  in  a 
creature  like  that,  might  accomplish  more  than  all  her 
jth  of  life  and  power  of  action?  Was  genius  so  far 
everything  else  in  this  world?  These  thoughts 
broke  forth  in  a  burst  of  tender  enthusiasm. 

"Oh,  Ruthy!  Ruthy!  Is  it  so?  Are  you  to  be  the 
bread-winner,  and  I  the  drone?  I  cannot  believe  it!  I 
cannot  believe 

-aid  Ruthy.     "It  seems  like  a  miracle;  but,  oh, 

I  will  work  80  hard!     Ah,  Mr.  Ross,  you  opened  a  new  life 

to  lie',  when  you  pronounced  my  poor  sketches  worth}'  of 

" 

'•The  life  of  genius  is  always  new,  for  its  very  essence  is 

creation,"  answered  Ross,  with  subdued  enthusiasm. 

"  But,  to  chain  genius  down    to  the  earning  of  mouey, 

I  to  it>  greatness,"  said  Eva. 

u Unsuited  to  its  greatness!"  exclaimed  Ross.     "  Is  it  a 

lation    to  he  useful,  to  give   bread    for    thought — for 

I    power  to  transmute   itself  Into   material   blessing  '.' 

I-  the  man  <-r  woman  of  genius   higher  or  prouder   than  the 

G       rho  made  him?     [a  the  wheat,  which  bends  in  green 

;  ening  waves  to  the   wind,  and   grows  golden  under 


eva's    temptation.  241 

the  sunshine,  less  beautiful  because  hungry  millions  feed  on 
it  ?  Are  the  lilies  of  the  field  more  splendid  than  the  fruit 
■with  which  our  orchards  are  laden  ?  Why,  Eva,  every 
grand  or  lovely  thing  that  God  has  created  has  its  uses  for 
mankind.  While  men  starve  and  suffer,  no  gift  that  comes 
from  Him  can  remain  idle  without  sin.  The  great  reward 
of  genius  is  its  power  to  confer  blessings;  first,  by  the  effort 
itself,  giving  new  objects  of  thought  or  beauty  to  the  world, 
and  again  by  the  material  rewards,  which  cannot  be  used 
without  adding  to  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  mankind." 

Eoss  spoke  with  an  outburst  of  feeling,  which  Eva's  little 
speech,  natural  to  a  romantic  girl,  need  hardly  have  called 
forth.  She  blushed  crimson,  feeling  his  ardent  words  as  a 
rebuke,  while  Euth  seemed  to  kindle  up  with  living  fire. 
Her  eyes  flashed  like  stars,  and  a  handful  of  carnations 
seemed  to  have  been  dashed  against  her  cheek,  leaving  a 
delicate  stain  there.     She  rose  to  her  elbow,  radiant. 

"  Ob,  Eva  ! "  she  said.  "  If  you  knew  how  happy  it  has 
made  me  to  win  a  little  money,  when  you  all  need  it  so 
much,  you  would  never  talk  as  if  the  earning  it  could  be 
considered  unsuitable." 

"You  are  right,"  answered  Eva,  almost  crying.  "It  was 
a  thoughtless  speech." 

"  Because  you  really  had  never  considered  the  subject," 
answered  Eoss,  heartily  ashamed  of  his  own  enthusiasm. 
"But  all  this  brings  us  no  nearer  to  the  question  in  hand." 
Both  the  sisters  grew  silent,  and  the  color  faded  slowly 
from  their  faces.  They  looked  at  each  other  with  yearning 
fondness,  and,  as  if  influenced  by  one  feeling,  the  eyes  of 
both  filled  with  tears. 

"  It  can  hardly  be  called  a  separation,"  said  Eoss,  touched 
with  lively  sympathy.  "  There  need  not  be  a  day  in  which 
you  cannot  see  each  other." 

"  She  must  go,"  faltered  Euth,  stretching  forth  her  arms. 
"  To  keep  her  with  us  would  be  cruel." 
15 


THE      K1I6H1IO      BELLE. 

D  her  knees  by  the  couch,  and  buried  her 

m. 
:.e  said.     "  We  cannot  part;  not  while  they 
need  of  I 

member  mother,  how  much  more  you  would  be 

fox  ber  and  James,  who  felt  it  so  hard  to  give  up 

."  pleaded  Rath.     *'  This  is  a  poor  place  for  you,  my 

:." 

tt  is  it  better  for  you  and  mother?"  questioned  Eva, 
•'v.  for  the    temptation  to  go  was    strong 
within  her,  and  she  hated  herself  for  it. 

it  we  will  soon  make  this  home  pleasanter  for  them 
than  it  has  ever  been,"  said  Ross. 

'•Who  is  that?  Mother?"  cred  Bath,  who  heard  a 
woman's  step  in  the  porch.  a  She  will  think  with  us.  I  am 
sure,  ! 


CHAPTER    LVI. 

MRS.    SMITH    BRINGS    PAIXFTL    XEWS. 

Dot  reply  to  her  sister's  question,  for  she  had 
hurri'  I  ind  found  Dot  her  mother,  as  she  e 

Smith,  with   her  bonnet  awry,  and  her 
trailing  to  the  ground     The  pood  woman'.-  t. 
flushed   with  crying,  and  a  fresh  rain  of  tears  came  to  her 
the  moment  .-he  saw  Eva, 
"Don't!     Don't!     Order    me   from     the    door!     I>'>n't 
nothing,  just  with  looking  in  my  face! 
my  fault;    I    knew    no  more    about  it  than    my 
•  darling,  that  never  dr 
i  crael  father  I'll  never  live  with  S 

d  do  such  u  thing,  without  telling 


PAINFUL      NEWS. 


243 


me  !     I'm  not  a  cannibal,  nor  a  Hottentot  to  stand  such 
things!" 

Mrs.  Smith  had  hurst  forth  in  this  torrent  of  words  and 
tears  on  the  very  door-step.  Eva  entreated  her  to  come  in. 
Being  utterly  ignorant  of  the  particular  grief  that  possessed 
the  good  woman,  she  could  do  no  more. 

"  You're  just  one  degree  from  a  heavenly  angel,  Eva 
Laurence,"  continued  the  good  woman,  wiping  her  eyes  on 
the  corner  of  her  shawl,  as  she  passed  into  the  parlor. 
"Smith  won't,  but  I've  come  to  make  atonement  on  my 
bended  knees.  Tell  me  what  to  do  for  them,  and  I'll  do  it, 
if  Jerusha  Maria  and  I  are  left  without  a  crust." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Smith,  what  do  you  mean  ?  Who  has 
troubled  you  so?  " 

"Who?  My  own  lawfully-married  husband.  What? 
Oh,  mercy  upon  me  !  don't  you  know  yet  ?  Where's  your 
mother  ?  " 

"She  went  out  this  morning,"  said  Eva,  "and  has  not 
returned  yet.     We  are  expecting  her  every  minute." 

"Expecting  her!     Why,  don't    you   know?     Expecting 
her  ?     Oh  !  oh  !  this  is  hard,  that  I  should  have  to  tell  it, 
and  he  my  husband  !     Eva,  both  your  mother  and  James 
are  in  prison." 
"  In  prison  !  " 

Three  voices  at  once  uttered  this  one  sentence.  Ruth 
started  up  from  her  couch,  white  to  the  lips;  Eva  stood 
rooted  to  the  floor,  her  eyes  widening,  and  lips  just  apart. 
Even  Mr.  Ross  started  to  his  feet,  and  a  swarthy  color 
swept  over  his  face. 

"In  prison!  Eor  what?"  he  demanded.  "Who  put 
them  there  ?  " 

"  Must  I  say  it  again  ?  It  was  my  own  husband  that 
did  it,  backed  up,  and  led  blind  by  that  copper-headed  cre- 
tur,  Ja  Boyce.  I  know  as  well  as  I  live,  that  he's  at  the 
bottom  of  it,  though  Smith  sticks  to  him  through  thick  and 


I  B  B     B  B  I  G  N  I  N  G      B  B  I.  I-  E. 

thin.       As   for   that    boy,  he's   innocent  as   twenty   lambs, 

: f  'era  with  Beeces  white  as  Bnow;  but  you  can't 

make  Smith  believe  it,  he's  that  blinded." 

••  Pray,  Mrs.  Smith,  compose  yourself)  and  tell  us  clearly 
what  all  this  means?  On  what  charge  are  these  two  per- 
BOD8  in  prison  ?  "  said  Eoss,  who  was  the  first  to  recover 
his  prei  ence  of  mind. 

"Charges?  Why,  theft!  burglary!  receiving  stolen 
property  !  Our  store  was  robbed  on  the  night  wo  went  to 
your  sister's  party.  And  they  are  took  up  for  doing  it.  I 
didn't  know  it  till  just  now.  Oh,  they  were  mighty  sly, 
Kate  Gorman  and  all,  taking  people  up,  and  keeping  me  in 
the  'lark  ;  but  I've  left  'em.  Smith  will  find  out  what  he's 
done  when  I  am  gone,  and  his  borne  is  full  of  nothing  but 
lonelii 

"Where  have  they  been  taken  to,  Mrs.  Smith?"  in- 
quired  R 

'•  Where  ?  The  Tombs,  to  be  sure.  Xo  other  place  was 
gloom v  enough  for  them.  Smith  has  gone  down  to  appear, 
i  ,m1  a  pretty  appearance  he'll  put  in  for  himself.     Oh, 

girls,  it  was  not  my  fault!" 

The  poop  woman  clasped  her  hands,  and  seemed  about  to 
fall  upon  her  knees  before  Eva,  who  flung  both  arms  about 
her  neck,  and  tenderly  wiped  her  eyes,  though  her  hands 
.•-liook  in  doing  it,  and  the  dumb  anguish  in  her  face  was 
pitiful  to  - 

••  Whatever  it  is,  we  shall  never  blame  you,  Mrs.  Smith," 
gasped  Both. 

Mrs.  Smith  fell  on  her  knees  before  the  sick  girl's  couch, 
and  burst  into  a  fresh  paroxysm  of  tears. 

'•  Bnt  you  must  blame  him.  "Who  can  help  it?  To  keep 
mob  things  secret  from  the  wife  of  his  bosom;  hard  as  a 

rook,  too,  against  thai  [ r   honest,  trusty,  dear  old  woman. 

Oh,  it's  too  bad  I  too  bad  I  Bat  that  he  told  me  himself,  I 
would  have  believed  it;  but  there  he  is,  gone  down  to 
;  I  bCAthen  grind-stone." 


PAINFUL     NEWS.  245 

"  Be  tranquil,  be  patient,  ray  dear  young  ladies.  I  will 
go  at  once,  and  see  what  this  means,"  said  Ross,  taking 
Eva's  hand,  which  scarcely  trembled  more  than  his  own. 
"They  will  need  some  friend.  Have  no  fear;  I  shall  know 
how  to  help  them." 

"  I — I  will  go  with  you,"  cried  Eva,  turning  to  leave  the 
room. 

"No;  not  yet.  It  would  only  do  harm.  All  that  can 
be  done  I  will  attend  to.  It  is  impossible  that  there  should 
be  anything  serious  in  this.  Stay  quietly  at  home  till  you 
hear  from  me." 

Eva  hesitated.  Her  first  generous  impulse  was  to  brave 
everything  for  the  two  beings  she  loved  so  dearly.  But 
nobility  of  purpose  is  not  always  prudently  carried  out.  It 
requires  more  fortitude  to  stay  at  home  and  wait,  than  to 
rush  out  and  act.  The  girl  was  brave,  but  she  was  also 
obedient,  and  when  Ruth  spoke,  she  turned  from  her  pur- 
pose. 

"Stay,  Eva,"  said  the  gentle  invalid.  "You  can  do 
nothing.  Our  good  friend  will  help  us.  Stay  till  he 
comes." 

Eva  sat  down,  and  burst  into  tears.  Forbidden  to  act, 
she  could  only  weep  and  wait. 

"Tell  him  that  I  have  left  his  house!  That — that  he  is 
a  cruel,  hard-hearted  man  !     Tell  him  that  there  is  no  sort 

of  use  in  his  ever  coming  home  again — for — for Oh, 

it  i*  dreadful !     Why  can't  people  die  when  they  want  to?  " 

Mrs.  Smith  would  have  added  more  no  doubt,  but  half 
these  words  were  smothered  on  Ruth's  couch  ;  and  when 
she  looked  up,  Mr.  Ross  was  passing  through  the  garden- 
gate. 

"Oh,  girls,  what  shall  we  do?"  she  exclaimed,  "what 
shall  we  do !  Just  say  that  I  never  ought  to  speak  to 
Smith  again,  and  I  won't;  no,  not  if  he  takes  Jerusha 
Maria  out  of  my  arms,  and  gives  her — oh !  oh  ! — to  some 
other  woman." 


T  ii  i;     B  B  [Oil  N  Q     B  E  LIS. 

"My  dear  friend,"  murmured  Ruth,  "go  home  to  your 
child— all  will  be  welL" 

"Yes,    I    will    go!"    sobbed  the   good   woman;    "but   it 
be  down  then 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

IN    HASTE    FOR    THE    WEDDING. 

-  Ki.i.in  Post  was  taking  in  the  waist  of  Miss 
Spicer's  white  Bilk  dress,  and  had  altered  the  trimming  till 
it  really  seemed  as  good  as  new.  Miss  Spicer,  herself,  had 
down  into  the  servants'  parlor  to  examine  the  effect, 
and  had  brought  from  her  own  room  a  quantity  of  tulle 
scarcely  the  worse  for  wear,  which  had  once  covered  a  train- 
ed over-dress,  but  was  quite  fresh  enough  for  the  wedding 
veil;  especially  as  the  breadths  were  joined  neatly  by  a 
white  wreath,  which  had  been  beautifully  freshened  up  for 
the  occasion. 

■    deeper   anxiety  than    the  wedding   dress   had  evi- 
dently brought   the  young  heiress  into  the  servants'  depart- 
ment, tor  fhe  pushed  aside  a  mass  of  silk  tulle  and  frag- 
Fronn  a  couch  which  stood  near  the  expectant 
.     .  ncd  to  prepare  herself  for  a  conversation  of 

some  length. 

Miss   Poet  WftS  very  busy  with   the  bridal  veil,  and   threw 

h'-r  whole  energ  apletely  into  the  pleasant  task,  that 

she  had  little  attention  to  bestow  even  on  the  young  lady 

who  had  honored  her  by  a  visit,  and  from  whom  Bhe  ex- 

ii  uch. 

Thus  Mi  impelled  to  begin  the  subject  that 

j    on    her   mind,  without    help    from   the 

• 


IN      HASTE      FOR      THE      WEDDING.         247 

"You  are  quite  sure,  Ellen,  that  there  is  no  mistake 
about  the  arrests,"  she  said,  at  length. 

Miss  Post  was  holding  up  the  wreath  from  which  a  cloud 
of  tulle  floated  to  the  floor,  and  did  not  answer  for  half  a 
minute,  but  she  spoke  at  last. 

"  Sure,  Miss  Spicer,  of  course  I  am.  The  young  man, 
Boyce,  came  round  and  told  us  the  minute  it  was  done. 
They  first  took  up  the  boy,  then  walked  the  old  woman  off 
between  two  policemen.  Boyce  waited  to  see  it  done,  then 
come  to  inform  Mr.  Mahone,  who  is  anxious  beyond  any- 
thing, knowing  that  our  wedding  depends  on  their  being 
safely  locked  in  prison." 

"  Your  wedding,  Ellen,  pray  what  has  that  to  do  with 
it?"  questioned  Miss  Spicer,  who  was  not  entirely  informed 
of  the  wheels  within  wheels  which  revolved  in  the  kitchen 
department. 

"Just  as  much  as  the  five  thousand  dollars  that  you  are 
to  pay  over  for  clearing  these  people  out  of  the  madam's 
path." 

"  Oh,  you  depend  on  that ;  but  it  will  take  some  time 
before  they  can  be  safely  disposed  of,  Ellen." 

"  They  are  in  prison  this  minute ;  by  to-morrow,  at  far- 
thest, they  will  be  remanded — that  is  the  word  Mr.  Mahone 
calls  it — back  for  trial.  That  ought  to  be  disgrace  enough 
for  one  family,  Miss  Spicer." 

"  But  this  money  was  to  be  paid  on  conviction,  Ellen,  you 
must  remember  that." 

"No,  I  do  not,"  answered  the  waiting  maid,  casting 
aside  her  veil  and  entering  into  the  subject  with  spirit,  "and 
if  you  take  it  so,  it  isn't  too  late  to  draw  back.  The  young 
man  Boyce  has  only  to  clear  out  of  the  city,  and  the}''!! 
have  to  be  acquitted.     Everything  depends  on  him." 

Miss  Spicer  changed  color  and  gave  the  fragments  of  silks 
and  laces  around  her  a  spiteful  toss  to  the  floor.  Her  love 
of  money  was  almost  as  warm  as  her  attachment  for  young 


I  H  I     B  SIGNING     BELLE. 

mbert,  or  her  dislike  of  Eva  Laurence.     She  had,  in  fact, 
promised  this  large  sura  of  money  with  a  reserved  hope  of 
:  liii^    the    payment    after    her    vengeance    was    secured. 
Poet  was  not  exactly  the   person   to  be  so  dealt 
with.     She  had  no  abiding  faith  in  the  honor  of  her  con- 
federate, and  was  resolved  that  the  trust  should  not  be  all  on 
one  side.      Another  reason,  still  more  urgent,  gave  her  cour- 
to  be  firm.     Ellen  had  met  with  disappointments  in  her 
life,  and  she  was  in  haste  to  secure  herself  from  a  mournful 
t  it  ion  of  them  by  wearing  the  snow-white  robe  at  the 
earliest    possible   moment.     Before  she   could   do  that,  the 
money  which    Miss  Spicer  had  promised  must  be  forthcom- 
ing.    Mahone  had  expressed  himself  very  decidedly  on  that 
point. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Miss  Spicer,  "that  you  and  your 
friends  are  going  off  from  the  terms  of  our  agreement, 
Ellen." 

»t  at  all,"  answered  the  bride.  "  Mr.  Mahone  is  the 
very  soul  of  honor.  At  first  he  declined  to  act  without 
the  money  in  hand,  but  a  word  from  me  was  enough  to  per- 
suade him  into  waiting  till  these  persons  were  in  prison. 
Then,"  says  he,  "dearly  as  I  love  you,  Ellen,  superior  as 
are  to  all  other  women,  I  must  be  firm ;  for  your  own 
dear  sake,  I  should  be  prepared  to  support  you  like  the  ladv 
yon  are.     For  this  reason  I  must  have  the  money  down." 

I  here  was  no  resisting  an  argument  put  in  this  compli- 
mentary way,  Miss  Spicer.     It  went  at  once  to  the  heart." 

'■I  should  think  it  was  rather  intended  to  go  to  my  pocket," 
answered  the  young  lady  with  a  short,  sneering  laugh.  "So 
"  1  ''"  DOl  pay  the  money  down  your  Mr.  Mahone  will 
a""u  pie  to  escape.     Ls  that  what  you  mean?" 

"1    am   inclined   to  think   that  was   Mr.  Mahone's  mean- 
answered  Ellen,  holding  op  her  veil  again  and  admir- 
ing it  with   her  head  on  one  side  like  a  heron  looking  at  his 
shadow  in  the  water.     ■■  Bnl  it  was  all  for  my  sake,  so  you 

most  DOt  think  hard  of  him.'' 


IN      HASTE     FOR     THE     WEDDING.         249 

"  Miss  Post,  my  Ellen  ! " 

The  voice  which  uttered  these  words  came  from  the 
kitchen  out  of  which  a  door  opened.  Then  Mr.  Mahone 
appeared. 

"  Your  Adonis,"  said  Miss  Spicer  with  a  short  laugh. 

"No,"  answered  Ellen,  innocently,  "his  name  is  Ma- 
hone." 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  said  the  footman,  advancing  into  the 
room,  "  I  thought  this  young  lady  was  alone.  Boyce  has 
just  come  in,  would  you  like  to  speak  with  him  ?  " 

Ellen  looked  at  Miss  Spicer,  who  nodded  her  head. 

"  He  can  come  in  if  }-ou  desire,"  said  Ellen  with  dignity, 
but  first  allow  me  to  put  these  garments  out  of  sight." 

Directly  the  footman  entered  the  room  again,  followed  by 
Boyce,  who  presented  himself  with  an  air  of  mingled  awk- 
wardness and  audacity  that  would  have  excited  either  anger 
or  ridicule  in  Miss  Spicer  at  any  other  time;  now  her  mind 
was  occupied  with  the  business  in  hand,  so  she  watched 
him  with  keen  interest. 

"This  young  man  has  brought  me  word  that  the  person 
whom  you  take  so  much  interest  in  is  safe  in  prison  and  will 
be  examined  to-day,"  said  Mahone,  addressing  Ellen,  but 
looking  at  the  young  lady.  "He  has  just  come  from  the 
Tombs." 

"  Then  they  are  both  shut  up,  the  mother  and  the  boy," 
said  Ellen. 

u  That's  so,"  answered  Boyce,  seating  himself  on  the 
edge  of  a  chair  and  crushing  his  hat  with  both  bands, 
"  salt  can't  save  'em  after  this.     They've  got  to  go." 

"  Then  these  poor  creatures  are  certainly  in  prison  ? " 
questioned  the  young  lady,  breaking  out  of  all  prudent 
bounds  when  she  thought  her  vengeance  on  the  fair  way  to 
completion. 

"  No  mistake  about  that,  Miss,  you'd  a  thought  so  if  you 
had   seen   how   they   took   on — affecting,  I  can   tell   you, 


Till.      BBIQNING      B  B  L  L  K. 

enough  t<>  bring  teara  from  a  common  ball.  Almost  snivel- 
led  my-. -It.  if  you'll  excuse  the  word,  Miss." 

"Then  it  is  certain?"  questioned  Miss  Spicer. 

■•A-  bolts  and  bare  can  make  it,"  said  Mahone.  "This 
young  man's  evidence  is  enough  to  convict  a  born  angel." 

■•  Ami  1  have  given  it — and  shall  have  to  give  it  again — 
nothing  but  cutting  loose  and  running  away  can  stop  that," 
said  the  youth,  adding  the  last  sentence  in  reply  to  a  wink 
li -in  Mahone. 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Ellen  Post,  dismissing  the 
rk  as  if  she  had  been  an  Empress.  "I  took  an 
■  people  on  account  of  the  boy,  but  if  they 
are  really  guilty,  of  course  all  sympathy  ends." 

"Guilty,  1  should  think  so,"  answered  Boj'ce,  getting 
himself  up  from  the  chair,  "  good  morning — good  morning 
Miss.      1  hone  1  have  not  intruded  nor  nothing?" 

"Good  morning,"  said  Ellen  blandly,  as  became  a  not 
very  young  lady  so  near  the  hymenial  altar. 

Mahone  followed  Boyce  from  the  room,  and  the  two  men 
held  BOme  moments  of  eager  conversation  in  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  kitchen. 

'•  Did  1  ilo  it  up  brown?  "  questioned  the  younger  man. 

"Thai  you  did,"  answered  the  other.  "Jared.  I  always 
have  said  you  were  a  trump." 

••  What  is  best,  every  word  of  it  is  true.  I'm  going 
down  to  the  court  now.  The  young  lady  has  only  got  the 
news  a  little  in  advance.  Good-bye,  old  boy.  I'll  come  up 
and  give  VOO  particulars  when  it's  all  over." 

••  I  iood-bj  e,  and  Bee  that  you  make  no  blunders,"  answered 
Mahone,  "they  would  be  too  costly  jus!  now." 

"  I  '  said  Boyce,  coming  back  a  step  or  two,  "don't 
take  the  screws  off  from  that  rich  girl  in  there.  .Nail  ber 
•  ■  we  are  in  too  deep." 

"Oh,  never   fear,   Ellen   will  do   that,"  answered   Mahone, 

and  the  two  pai ted. 


IN      HASTE      FOR      THE      WEDDING.  251 

Meanwhile  Ellen  Post  was  proving  herself  worthy  of  the 
confidence  Mr.  Mahone  expressed  in  her.  The  moment  those 
two  young  men  left  the  room  she  turned  to  Miss  Spicer. 

"  Now  are  you  satisfied,  Miss  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  the  work  you  undertook  is  half  done," 
answered  the  young  lady  tartly. 

"  One  thing  is  certain,"  replied  Miss  Post  quietly  resuming 
her  work,  "  the  money  we  depended  on  must  be  paid  within 
an  hour,  or  that  young  man  will  come  up  missing  at  the 
examination/' 

Miss  Spicer  started  to  her  feet,  and  flushed  angrily,  feel- 
ing herself  coarsely  coerced. 

"  Ellen  Post,  I  have  made  you  a  promise  and  it  shall  be 
performed.  It  seems  that  we  cannot  trust  each  other.  Let 
that  young  man  go  on  and  I  will  pay  you  half  the  money 
now,  the  rest  when  these  people  are  convicted,  not  a  cent 
more.  Take  your  choice,  a  check  for  two  thousand  five 
hundred  now,  the  rest  to  abide  the  result  of  a  trial,  or 
nothing.     Which  will  you  have?" 

"The  check,"  said  Ellen  Post,  still  going  on  with  her 
work  with  a  leisurely  motion. 

Miss  Spicer  left  the  room  without  a  word.  Ellen  Post 
worked  faster,  and  her  needle  flew.  This  was  all  the  sign 
of  excitement  that  she  gave. 

Directly  the  young  lady  came  down  again  with  a  check 
fluttering  in  her  hand.  She  flung  it  into  the  waiting  maid's 
lap. 

-Will  that  do?" 

Ellen  took  the  check  up,  and  examined  it  closely. 

"  Yes,  it  will  do,"  she  said,   "  thanks  !  " 

Miss  Spicer  flung  herself  out  of  the  room. 

The  moment  she  was  gone,  Ellen  Post  dropped  her  work 
in  a  white  heap  on  the  carpet,  and  opened  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Mr.  Mahone  !  " 

The  footman  answered  the  call  of  his  lady  love  promptly. 


262  T  B  B     REIGNING      BELLE. 

closed  the  door  and  held  up  the  check.     He  flushed 
neon  with  pleasure. 
••  Y.ii  don't  say  ^ !  " 

"  That  is  all  we  sljall  get  till  after  the  trial,"  said  Ellen. 
••  Let  me  look  at  it,'"'  entreated  Mr.  Mahoue,  reaching  out 
his  hand. 

•■  No,  the  ink  is  wet,"  answered  his  betrothed. 
••  Hut,  but  when — " 

Mali. 'la-  hesitated,  some  coward  thought,  which  might 
have  been  conscience  in  another  man,  checked  the  criminal 
proposition  he  was  about  to  make. 

"  Did  you  ask  anything?''  inquired  Ellen,  slowl}*  folding 
the  cluck  which  she  hid  carefully  away  in  her  bosom. 

••  Jfes,  1  did,  Mi>s  Tost.  What  are  we  a  waiting  for? 
how  long  will  you  keep  this  ardent  heart  on  the  fence  ?  " 

'•  Mr.  Mahone,  you  speak  so  metaphorically  that  I  can't 
qaite  understand." 

"  When — when  are  we  to  be  married — to  unite  our  for- 
tunes and  share  and  share  alike  ?" 

Mi—  Posi  cast  down  her  eyes  and  began  to  roll  up  one  of 
her  cap  strings,  feeling  herself  to  be  a  young  lady  of  ro- 
mance with  an  ardent  hero  before  her. 

'•When  will  that  confounded  —  that  gorgeous  wedding 
dress  he  done  ?  " 

"It — it  can  be  finished  in  an  hour,"  faltered  the  damsel, 
'•  I  wasju8t  fastening  flowers  into  the  bridal  veil." 

"Then  what  is  in  the  way?     "Who  is  to  hinder  us  from 
being  married  this  very  night?"  demanded  the  lover  whom 
a  liugle   glimpse  of    that  check  had  rendered  half    frantic 
jjreed. 
"To-nighl  !     ()',  !  Mr.  Mahonel" 

this  \ery  night     The  dress  is  ready — I  have  got 

what  would  am. >nnt  t«>  a  basket  of  champagne   stored  away, 
and  my  he. ul — my  heart  |  '" 

"  I'  n't!  don't   appeal   to  me  in  that  way;   you  know  my 


MOTHER      AND      SON. 


253 


weakness,  you  know  how  impossible  it  is  to  refuse  you  any- 
thing." 

"Is  that  so?  Prove  it  then,  Ellen,  prove  it  by  having 
that  dress  on  at  eight  o'clock  this  evening.  I  will  have  a 
carriage  at  the  back  entrance,  and  a  minister  ready.  Prom- 
ise now ;  if  your  love  for  me  is  the  genuine  thing,  you  will." 

"Oh,  Mahone,  I  promise!" 

"  At  eight,  then?" 

"At  eight  you  will  find  me  here  waiting." 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

MOTHER     AND     SON. 

"When  Mrs.  Laurence  heard  this  wild  cry  from  her  boy, 
she  turned  suddenly  and  held  out  her  arms.  The  poor  little 
fellow  rushed  into  them,  and  clung  to  her,  trembling  under 
a  fierce  effort  to  be  brave  and  choke  back  the  tears  that 
rushed,  hot  and  painful,  to  his  eyes. 

Up  to  this  moment  the  old  woman  had  been  too  indig- 
nant for  sorrow.  The  grey  of  her  eyes  shone  out  hard  and 
cold  as  steel ;  but  now  a  mist  stole  over  them  and  her  whole 
frame  shook  visibly. 

"James!  James!  there,  there,  hush!  These  men  must 
not  see  you  cry.  You  have  done  nothing.  I  have  done 
nothing.     Be  brave  then,  as  your  mother  is." 

James  drew  his  head  back,  and  looked  in  the  old  woman's 
face,  shaking  the  tears  away  from  his  own  vision  that  lie 
might  comfort  her  with  an  effort  to  obey  and  be  strong. 
But  the  sight  of  that  pale,  shocked  countenance  brought 
them  back  with  a  rush. 

"  Oh,  mother !  mother !  what  will  they  do  to  you  ? 


2">4  THE      BEIOIINO      BELLE. 

••  How  can  we  tell,  my  child?" 

"  And  the  girls,  Ruth;  and  Eva,  will  they  bring  them 
too?  " 

old  woman  shook  her  head. 

'•  I  don't  know.     How  can  I  ?  " 

"Where  are  they — oh!  where  are  they,  mother?  "  cried 
the  boy.  startled  with  a  new  fear. 

"At  home.  I  left  them  safe — don't,  don't  tremble  so, 
Jimmy. '' 

•  I'd  I  tremble?  Mother,  don't  mind,  I  didn't  mean 
to ;  only  I  was  so  frightened  about  the  girls.  Do  they 
mean  to  kill  us  all  ?  " 

"Come,  come,  little  chap.  Don't  you  see  that  we're 
waiting?  A  little  of  this  sort  of  thing  is  well  enough;  but 
you're  wanted  up  yonder,  you  know." 

The  policeman  who  said  this  took  James  by  the  arm,  not 
altogether  unkindly,  and  moved  toward  a  flight  of  stairs 
that  led  into  the  front  of  the  most  gloomy  building  that 
civilization  ever  invented. 

Through  dark  corridors,  narrow  passages,  and  sparsely 
furnished  rooms,  the  officers  led  mother  and  son,  who,  quite 
unconscious  of  crime,  felt  all  the  shame  and  bitter  humilia- 
tion of  guilt.  Through  those  vast  Egyptian  pillars  that 
Memed  Strong  enough  to  bear  up  mountains,  and  whose 
very  shadows  lay  like  overthrown  granite  upon  the  paved 
floor,  they  went,  growing  more  ami  more  heavy-hearted  into 
-'one  wilderness,  till,  at  last,  they  stood  in  a  square 
roc, in,  with  a  desk  running  across  one  end,  and  some  wooden 
along  the  opposite  side. 

The  woman  ami  her  son  sat  down  on  the  nearest  bench, 
while  the  officer  leaned  his  back  against  the  wall  and 
waited. 

'I  he  widow  looked   around  with  a  vague  feeling  of  eurios- 

i'y.     The  bare  room,  in  another  place,  would  hardly  have 
challenged  notice  ;    but  here,  in  the  heart  of  that  gloomy 


MOTHER      AND      SON.  255 

prison,  thoughts  of  crime  and  its  gloomy  train  of  sorrows 
made  the  place  desolate  indeed.  The  Judge,  who  sat  wea- 
rily on  his  bench,  scarcely  looked  that  way  when  the  door 
opened  to  admit  these  two  prisoners.  He  had  become  so 
accustomed  to  human  suffering,  so  familiar  with  every 
aspect  of  crime,  that  both  had  ceased  to  shock  him. 

After  a  little,  he  beckoned  to  the  officer,  who  came  for- 
ward and  answered  a  brief  question  put  to  him. 

"It  is,"  said  he.  "an  old  woman  and  her  son,  charged 
with  a  heavy  crime,  the  boy  with  grand  larceny,  the  woman 
with  receiving  the  goods  he  had  stolen,  probably  at  her  own 
suggestion." 

The  Judge  cast  a  severe  glance  at  the  woman,  and  went 
on  with  some  business  that  had  occupied  him  before -the 
officer's  entrance. 

But  few  persons  were  in  the  court-room,  for  scenes  like 
this  were  commonplace  affairs,  and  men  had  scarcely  the 
curiosity  to  look  twice,  when  the  mother  and  son  seated 
themselves  on  the  same  bench  with  some  half  dozen  other 
persons,  gloomy,  hardened  and  evil-looking,  who  awaited 
examination. 

After  awhile,  the  Judge  leaned  back  in  his  leathern  chair, 
and  the  officer  was  ordered  to  come  forward  with  his  charge. 
He  spoke  kindly  to  the  old  woman,  who  arose,  tall,  rigid 
and  tearless,  to  obey.  This  woman  knew  herself  to  be  in- 
nocent, and  felt  the  wrong  that  had  dragged  her  before  that 
tribunal  with  bitter,  even  fierce  resentment.  When  her 
hand  clutched  the  railing  before  the  Judge,  it  was  with 
a  grasp  of  iron,  and  the  eyes  she  bent  upon  him  burned 
with  smouldering  fire  which  he  took  for  defiance. 

When  the  judge  called  Mrs.  Laurence  by  name,  the  lad 
clung  to  her  dress,  and  followed  her  up  to  the  bar,  with 
some  wild  idea  of  protecting  her  from  the  harm  that  threat- 
ened them  both. 

But  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do.     He  understood 


THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

lno  iraong  was  intended,  but  bad  no  idea  of  tbe  form 
in  which  it  was  to  come  upon  them.  Thus  he  stood  close 
to  his  mother,  pale  and  bewildered. 

They  had  given  him  no  chance  to  speak  to  bis  mother, 
nor  did  be  know  <>f  what  she  was  accused.  All  was  gloom 
and  distrust  around  him;  his  proud  young  heart  swelled 
with  a  sense  of  infinite  degradation,  which  seemed  to  close 
in  his  life  with  sudden  darkness.  He  turned  bis  eyes  upon 
the  judge  with  thrills  of  dread,  then  lifted  them  to  bis 
mother,  from  whose  face  they  fell  away,  heavy  with  tears. 

As  the  mother  and  her  boy  stood  before  this,  to  them 
mysterious  tribunal,  two  men  came  into  tbe  court-room,  and 
James  gave  a  start  as  be  saw  them,  and  uttered  a  faint  cry, 
which  drew  bis  mother's  attention. 

The  first  man  who  presented  himself  was  Jared  Boyce, 
who  came  forward  with  a  studied  swagger,  tbougb  his 
usually  florid  face  was  almost  ashen  pale,  and  bis  cowardly 
eyes  wandered  away  from  any  look  fixed  upon  them. 

The  other  man  was  Smith ;  be  too  was  pale  and  greatly 
agitated;  he  only  cast  one  glance  at  tbe  lad,  wbose  face 
brightened  at  the  sight  of  him,  and  turned  utterl}'  away 
from  the  woman,  who  searched  bis  countenance  keenly  with 
I 

"Oh,  sir!  ob,  Mr.  Smith!  what  does  it  mean?  "What 
will  they  do  with  her?"  half  sobbed,  half  whispered  the 
boy,  who  still  considered  Smith  bis  friend,  and  drew  closer 
to  him  in  an  agony  of  hope. 

Smith  turned  asvay  with  a  frown;  bis  course  was  taken; 
justice  should  be  done;  why  then  should  he  permit  himself 
to  be  disturbed  by  the  woman's  stern  glance,  or  the  largo, 
pleading  eyes  of  the  boy.  Now  and  then,  be  glanced  to- 
ward the  door,  as  if  apprehending  something  from  that 
quarter.  Bui  tin-  fixed  resolve  of  his  face  did  not  change. 
He  waved  the  poor  lad  back  with  his  hand,  but  made  no 
other  reply  to  his  pathetic  appeal. 


MOTHER     AND     SON.  257 

"  Oh,  mother,  what  can  I  do  for  you — what  can  I  do?  " 
cried  the  boy,  creeping  back  to  the  old  woman's  side. 
"  Everybody  turns  against  us." 

"Hush!  be  a  man!"  was  the  answer;  but  the  old  wo- 
man's voice  was  broken  and  her  mouth  quivered. 

"  Do  they  mean  to  send  us  back  to  prison,  mother  ?  "  This 
time  the  boy  addressed  the  policeman  who  had  all  along 
betrayed  extraordinary  pity  for  him.  But  another  person 
heard  it  and  answered, 

"  Not  as  bug  as  I  live  to  say  that  it  sha'nt  be  done, 
Jimmy  dear  !" 

James  sprang  forward  and  caught  Mrs.  Smith  by  the 
gown. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  you  will  take  her  away,  you  will — "  Mrs. 
Smith  interrupted  him. 

"  Yes,  I  will,  if  it  kills  me  I  will !  " 

Here  the  good  woman  released  her  dress  from  the  boy's 
grasp  and  went  up  to  the  judge. 

"  Sir,"  said  she,  "now  may  it  please  your  honor,  I  have 
come  down  here  all  alone  to  see  that  justice  is  done  to  these 
two  people  who  are  innocent  as  milk,  yes  sir,  as  skim  milk. 
They  are  my  friends,  neither  of  them  ever  touched  the 
value  of  a  pin  that  I  didn't  give  them  with  my  own  hand. 
They " 

The  judge  here  interrupted  an  argument  that  would  have 
been  effective  before  a  jury,  and  in  its  honest  intensity 
interested  him. 

"Who  are  you,  Madam  ?  I  do  not  understand." 

"Who  am  I  ?  Yesterday  I  should  have  been  proud  to 
say  I  was  that  man's  wife,  but  now  ! " 

Here  poor  Mrs.  Smith  cast  a  reproachful  glance  on  her 
husband ;  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears,  and  only  answered 
the  judge  with  her  sobs. 

"  She  is  my  wife,"  said  Smith,  in  a  troubled  voice,  "  and 
won't  believe  in  their  guilt,  though  the  goods  were  found  in 
16 


258  T  II  K      REIGN  IH  G      H  B  I.  T.  B. 

thai  (Toman's  wood-house.  Some  of  them  was  in  the 
cellar.  The  officers  can  testify  to  that,  but  .she  won't  believe 
a  word  of  it." 

\  .  I  won't,  there!"  cried  the  woman,  brushing  away 
a  Fresh  burst  of  tears,  and  turning  upon  her  husband,  "not 
if  Pd  seen  them  a  doing  it  with  my  own  eyes.  There  are 
things,  Mr.  Judge,  that  human  nature  won't  take  in,  and 
this  is  one  of  them." 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  this  charge  of  your  own 
knowledge  ?  "  questioned  the  Judge  kindly,  for  the  woman's 
lessness  had  made  its  impression  on  him. 

••  Know,  Mr.  Judge.  Yes,  I  know  that  it's  a  shame  and 
a  disgrace  that  we  shall  never  get  over  as  long  as  my  name 
is  Smith.  Why,  sir,  if  you  could  have  seen  that  boy  tend- 
ing my  Jerusha  Maria,  his  innocence  would  be  clear  as  clear 
to  you.  No  paid  nurse  was  ever  so  careful  or  so  handy — the 
way  he  used  to  hold  up  her  two  feet  in  them  red  morocco 
-  for  her  to  crow  over,  was  a  sight  in  itself.  He  steal, 
b  B  store — nothing  but  a  heathen  would  think  of  it."' 

Here  Mrs.  Smith  turned  upon  her  husband,  and  flashed  a 
storm  of  wrathful  glances  on  him  from  her  yet  tearful  eyes. 

•■  STou're  a  pretty  man.  ain't  yoa — an  honor  to  the  name 
of  Smith,  oh  yes!  It  would  make  }rou  happy  to  see  these 
two  innocent  creatures  in  States  Prison,  with  balls  and 
chains  on  their  ankles.  I  can  see  you  now  a  gloating  over 
it.  and  those  two  girls  breaking  their  hearts.  Oh,  Smith  ! 
Smith  !      I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  of  you  !" 

■•  There,  there,  my  good  lady,  1  can  honor  jrour  feelings, 
1  •  you  interrupt  the  case.  Pray  step  down  and  let  me  take 
the  evidence  of  these  persons,"  said  the  Judge. 

•■  I'.nt  yon  won't  believe  them,  just  promise  that  you 
won't  believe  them,  and  I'll  be  still  enough." 

"Believe    me,  they   shall   have  justice,"    answered   the 

.  kmdly. 
"That    is    all   any   of   us    want,"    said   Mrs.    Smith,   and 


THE      EXAMINATION      COMPLETED.       259 

stepping  down,  she  took  her  place  by  Mrs.  Laurence,  reso- 
lute to  stand  by  her  to  the  last. 

"Young  man,  step  this  way." 

Jared  Boyce  obeyed  this  order  from  the  magistrate,  and 
mounted  the  step  which  ran  in  front  of  the  judge's  seat. 
His  face  was  flushed  to  a  bricky  red  now,  and  his  eyes  wan- 
dered away  from  any  one  who  attempted  to  look  into  them. 
They  were  turned  furtively  aside  from  the  judge  while  Boyce 
told  his  story  in  a  hard,  cruel  voice,  which  never  faltered  or 
softened  in  its  tone  from  beginning  to  end.  We  know  what 
that  story  was,  and  how  the  wicked  plot  to  ruin  this  brave, 
innocent  lad  had  grown  and  perfected  itself  in  the  craft  aud 
greed  of  a  few  base  creatures,  who  at  first  thought  only  of 
throwing  their  own  guilt  on  him,  but  afterwards  broadened 
their  plot  in  hopes  of  great  future  gain. 

It  was  impossible  for  Boyce  to  keep  the  blood  from  reced- 
ing now  and  then  from  his  face.  When  that  stern  woman's 
eyes  were  bant  on  him,  he  seemed  to  feel  their  searching 
fire,  and  grew  deadly  pale,  though  his  glance  never  rested 
on  her  once.  Two  or  three  times  the  accused  lad  made  a 
step  or  two  forward,  with  his  hand  clenched,  tempted  to 
strike  his  fellow-clerk  for  the  slander  he  was  uttering ;  but 
a  touch  of  the  old  woman's  hand  brought  him  back  to  her 
side,  and  the  perjured  wretch  told  his  story  to  the  end,  with- 
out interruption  of  any  kind. 


CHAPTER  LTX. 

THE    EXAMINATION    COMPLETED. 

Then  Smith  the  grocer  took  the  stand.  There  was  hu- 
man feeling  in  this  man,  and  he  bitterly  repented  the  step 
he  had  taken  after  his  wife  learned  of  it,  and  put  in  her  pas- 


%%  I  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

rionste  protest.  Bat  compunction  came  too  late.  Plis  charge 
had  been  made;  the  case  was  taken  out  of  his  hands.  He 
WOold  gladly  have  softened,  or  withheld  his  own  evidence; 
but  the  oath  enforced  upon  him  was  a  sacred  obligation  to 
■peak  the  truth,  and  against  his  own  will  Smith  gave  iu  his 
evidence  honestly. 

While  he  was  speaking  a  gentleman  came  into  the  court- 
room, and  quietly  drew  toward  Mrs.  Laurence  and  her  son, 
who  caught  him  by  the  hand  and  whispered, 

"  i  Mi,  take  her  home !  don't  let  her  stand  here  to  be  look- 
ed at  BO  I  Peel  her  hands;  they  are  cold  as  stones!  Let 
them  take  me,  I  am  a  man,  and  can  bear  it;  but  a  night  in 
one  of  those  cells  would  kill  any  woman  !  Please,  oh,  please  ! 
We  haven't  another  friend  on  earth  but  Mrs.  Smith  and 
you,  since  he  has  turned  against  us." 

Sere  James  cast  a  look  full  of  mournful  reproach  on  Smith, 
whose  voice  began  to  falter,  and  once  more  he  besought  per- 
mission to  withdraw  the  charge  and  let  these  two  helpless 
creatures  go.  Guilty  as  they  were,  he  did  not  like  to  see 
them  punished. 

Then  the  old  woman  advanced  toward  the  judge  and 
spoke.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  uttered  anything  but 
dry,  hard  monosyllables,  since  her  entrance  into  the  court- 
room. 

"  If  you  are  to  decide  this,"  she  said,  firmly  ;  but  still 
with  respect,  "I  ask  that  this  man  shall  show  us  no  mercy 
that  can  leave  a  suspicion  of  wrong  on  me,  or  on  my  boy. 
If  you  are  a  just  judge,  search  out  the  truth,  find  the  guilty 
■  us;  first  and  foremost  wring  the  perjury  from  that 
young  man's  BOUl,  fur  he  is  perjured." 

Boyce  tried  to  evade  the  long,  steady  finger  which  the 
woman  pointed  at.  him;  but  there  was  a  Force  and  weird 

nation  in  her  look  which  held  him  motionless.    He  grew 
Coldly   white  to  the  lips,  and   the  ruddy   hair  rose  upon  his 

temples  like  meadow-grass  lifted  by  the  wind. 


THE     EXAMINATION      COMPLETED.       261 

"That — that  is  libelous,"  he  faltered  at  last.  "I  only 
come  to  do  iny  duty,  and  because  Mr.  Smith  wanted  me 
to." 

"  Well,  I  just  wish  I  hadn't ;  that's  all,"  said  Smith,  wip- 
ing his  moist  forehead.  "  I'd  rather  have  lost  twice  the 
money,  than  go  through  with  all  this  again ;  to  say  nothing 
of  the  awful  muss  at  home,  where  I  don't  know  as  my  own 
wife  will  speak  to  me." 

"  Oh,  you  never  fear  that — they  always  do  !  "  said  Boyce, 
with  an  uneasy  attempting  to  shake  off  the  impression 
which  Mrs.  Laurence  had  left  upon  him.  "Shouldn't  won- 
der if  she  forgives  you  one  of  these  days,  hard  as  she  takes 
it ;  women  are,  naturally — well,  suppose  we  say,  soft." 

"Silence!"  said  the  judge,  on  whom  the  young  man 
was  fastening  a  vague  suspicion  of  treachery.  "  Come  for- 
ward, Mrs.  Laurence,  and  make  yonv  own  statement." 

Mrs.  Laurence  laid  her  hand  on  the  railing  before  her, 
looked  the  judge  steadily  in  the  face,  and  answered  that  she 
had  nothing  to  say,  except  that,  up  to  the  time  of  her  arrest 
she  had  never  heard  of  the  robbery,  or  known  that  her  son 
was  suspected. 

"  But  some  of  the  goods  were  found  on  your  premises. 
How  do  you  account  for  that  ?  "  said  the  judge. 

"I  do  not  account  for  a  thing  of  which  I  have  no  knowl- 
edge. If  stolen  property  was  found  there,  neither  I  nor 
this  child  had  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"  Then  you  deny  all  knowledge  of  the  stolen  goods  found 
in  the  out-house  on  your  premises  ?  " 

« I  do ! " 

"  And  the  boy  ?  Step  down.  He  may  be  able  to  tell  us 
something.     James  Laurence  !  " 

James  came  forward,  pale  and  frightened ;  but  in  no  way 
downcast;  his  eyes  clear,  honest,  and  limpid  with  truth, 
were  lifted  almost  with  confidence  to  the  judge,  whose  face 
softened  with  an  irresistible  feeling  of  compassion  as  he  bent 
it  toward  him. 


2     _  THK      REIGNING      BELLE. 

•  !'•  11  mo  what  yon  know  of  this,"  he  said,  very  kindly  ; 
'•but  tir>t  let  me  caution  you.     If  you  are  the  guilty  boy  this 

ikes  y<>ii  out,  I  have  no  power  or  right  to  make 
you  accuse  yourself.  Be  careful  what  you  say;  iunocent  or 
guilty,  you  shall  have  a  fair  trial." 

■•  I  will  answer  everything,  only  please  tell  me  what  is  it 
you  want  to  know?" 

i  have  heard    the    charge.     You    know    what    this 
young  man  has  been  saying.     Is  it  true  ?  " 

•  Y  -.  sir,  I  heard  every  word  he  said.  Some  of  it  was 
true,  and  some  wasn't,"  answered  the  boy,  lifting  his  honest 

to  the  magistrate's  face. 

'•  How  much  of  it,  then,  was  true?" 

"  He  did  give  me  the  store  key,  sir,  and  I  was  left  home 
to  take  care  of  things." 

Here  the  boy  faltered  a  little,  and  his  eyes  fell,  his  manly 
little  heart  refused  to  own  that  he  was  left  in  care  of  a  girl 
baby  before  all  those  people. 

'Well,  what  did  you  do  after  that?" 

u  I  tried  to  fasten  the  door  inside,  but  the  bar  was  gone, 
so  I  left  it  as  it  was,  locked  but  not  barred,  and  went  up 
stairs." 

••  Who  was  with  you  then?" 

••  No  one,  that  is,  no  one  but  Jerusha  Maria.     Kate  Gor- 
man had  gone  out   with   Jared    Boyce,  and  we   two  were 
locked  in  till  our  folks  came  home  from  the  party." 
1  who  is  Jerusha  Maria?     Is  she  here?  " 

.Fames  glanced  at  Mrs.  Smith,  and  answered,  with  hesita- 
tion, that  Jerusha  Maria  was  Mrs.  Smith's  little  girl,  and 
couldn't  come  to  a  place  like  that,  not  being  old  enough." 

'•  Bat  being  that  bright,"   broke  in  the  mother,  "that  if 
i  cry  ready  to  break  her  heart." 

1  b*  mag  led.  but  went  on  questioning  James. 

"  Well,  what  did  you  do  after  that?  " 

"I  eat  down  :  |  Maria,  and  tried  to  coax  her  to 

go  to  bleep,"  faltered  tlm  lad,  blushing  crimson. 


THE      EXAMINATION      COMPLETED.       263 

"  Well,  what  next  ?  " 

"  She  wouldn't  do  it,  sir." 

"Being  good  as  gold,  but  obstinate,  taking  after  her 
father  in  that  respect,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Smith,  with  a  last 
dash  of  scorn  at  her  husband. 

"  They  had  kept  up  a  racket  before  going  out,"  said 
James;  " and  that  left  her  wide  awake.  It  wasn't  her 
fault." 

"I'll  be  bound  it  wasn't!"  exclaimed  the  mother,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"Well?"  said  the  judge,  silencing  Mrs.  Smith  with  a 
gesture  of  the  hand. 

"  Well,  sir,  I — I  sat  down  by  her  and  rocked  the  cradle 
till  she  fell  asleep." 

The  poor  boy  confessed  this  with  a  glow  of  burning 
shame  in  his  eyes  and  cheeks;  it  was  the  only  thing  in  his 
young  life  that  he  shrank  from  making  known  ;  the  great 
cross  taken  up  to  save  his  mother  and  sisters  from  starva- 
tion. 

"Well,  when  the  child  was  asleep — what  next?  " 

"I  drank  a  glass  of  root  beer  that  tasted  of  paregoric, 
and  went  to  sleep  myself.  It  was  wrong,  but  I  could  not 
help  it." 

"  But  you  woke  up  again  ?  "  said  the  magistrate. 

"  Not  till  the  folks  came  home." 

"  And  this  is  all  ?  " 

"  That  is  all  I  can  remember  about." 

The  magistrate  hesitated ;  there  was  something  so  straight- 
forward and  honest  in  the  two  persons  brought  before  him, 
that  some  intuitive  feeling  made  him  suspicious  of  the  evi- 
dence that  seemed  to  condemn  them.  But  there  was,  in 
fact,  nothing  to  contradict  it;  nothing  that  could  justify 
him  in  setting  the  prisoners  free.  While  he  hesitated,  there 
arose  a  slight  disturbance  at  the  door  of  the  court-room. 


264  THE     REIGNING     BELLE. 

CHAPTER   LX. 

AX    UNEXPECTED    WITNESS. 

A  young  woman,  evidently  of  the  working  classes,  was 
talking  eagerly  with  a  policeman,  stationed  at  the  door  of 
the  court-room,  which  disturbed  the  judge,  who  looked  that 
way  with  an  expression  of  annoj'ance. 

Boyce  also  gazed  anxiously  around ;  a  deadly  whiteness 
arept  over  his  face,  as  he  looked  for  some  other  door  by 
which  he  might  hope  to  escape.  None  presented  itself. 
Rendered  desperate  by  fear,  he  hurried  toward  the  woman, 
and  attempted  to  pass  her,  forcing  a  ghastly  smile  to  his 
lips,  calling  her  by  name,  and  saying,  with  airy  lightness, 
that  he  wished  to  speak  with  her. 

The  woman  turned  upon  him  fiercely.  He  saw  that  her 
eyes  were  heavy  with  weeping,  and  her  whole  face  flushed 
with  angry  grief.  Every  nerve  in  his  body  quivered ;  the 
breath  stopped  in  his  throat.  He  could  not  have  main- 
tained that  jaunty  air  a  moment  longer. 

"  Come  along  !     I  have  lots  to  say  to  you  !  " 

'•Say  it  to  him!"  answered  the  woman,  pointing  toward 
tin  policeman.  "He  will  go  with  you,  I  dare  say.  I  have 
got  business  in  here." 

"Business!     You?     What?     What  business?" 

"Gome  back,  and  you'll  hear.  At  any  rate,  I'm  not 
afraid  of  you  going  far.     Make  sure  that  you'll  be  wanted  !  " 

•■  What  do  you  mean,  woman?  Are  you  going  back  on 
your  own  husband?"  gasped  the  frightened  wretch,  in  a 
■  whisper.     " Are  you,  Mary?" 

"Notyet,"  answered  the  woman.  "  But  no  wonder  you 
think  so,  fol  I'm  going  to  do  a  queer  thing  for  oucel  " 

••  What?     What  is  that?" 

"  I'm  going  to  speak  the  truth,  and  shame —  Well,  no 
matter.'' 


AN      UNEXPECTED     WITNESS.  265 

"  Mary ! " 

"Yes!  That's  my  name.  Mary  Boyce.  Tell  Mr.  Jla- 
hone  that  the  old  name  is  good  enough  for  me  and  my  baby  ; 
but  then  we  don't  wear  French  caps  and  pink  streamers, 
and  no  young  lady  is  yearning  to  give  me  five  thousand  dol- 
lars for  disgracing  innocent  people !  Such  things  don't 
often  come  in  the  way  of  a  poor  woman,  who  goes  out  to 
day's  washing  to  support  herself  and  her  child,  besides 
handing  over  her  hard  earnings  to  the  man  who  wants  to 
leave  her." 

"  Mary  !  Mary  !  Listen  to  me  !  You  are  mistaken  ! 
Some  wicked  person  has  been  telling  you  lies  !  " 

Boyce  caught  his  sister-in-law  by  the  arm,  driven  frantic 
by  her  words. 

She  tore  herself  from  his  hold,  and  hurrying  up  to  the 
judge,  broke  in  upon  him. 

"Sir!  Yer  honor!  I  know  all  about  this  case!  That 
young  man  standing  there  is  Jared  Boyce,  my  husband's 
brother.  Swear  me,  please.  Let  me  tell  the  story  with  my 
hand  on  the  Bible." 

"Let  her  be  sworn,"  said  the  judge;  and  the  woman 
who  had  been  engaged  for  extra  help  in  Mrs.  Lambert's 
laundry  laid  her  hand  on  the  Bible  and  kissed  it  reverently. 

"  Now,"  said  the  magistrate,  "  what  is  it  you  wish  me  to 
hear  ?  " 

The  woman  answered  promptly  and  under  considerable 
excitement. 

"It  was  my  husband  and  that  copper-headed  scamp  that 
robbed  Mr.  Smith's  store.  They  two  planned  it  weeks  and 
weeks  ago ;  but  it  was  not  till  Smith  took  a  new  boy  on, 
that  they  could  make  anything  of  a  haul.  They  did  it  to- 
gether. My  own  husband,  who  is  a  footman  in  Fifth 
Avenue,  only  he  goes  by  another  name,  expects  that  will 
carry  him  through  bigamy  and  burglary,  and  everything 
else  bad  that  begins  with  a  B.     In  short,  sir,  only  this 


THE      RKIGNING      BELLE. 

morning,  going  out  to  my  day's  work,  as  innocent  as  a 
lamb,  thinking  my  husband  was  at  his  place  down  town, 
where  females  couldn't  come,  though  I  never  saw  a  smither- 
een  of  his  money — not  I.  Well,  yer  honor,  I  went  to  me 
daVa  work  in  a  new  place,  being  on  account  of  another 
woman's  not  being  well,  and  there  I  finds  my  own  hus- 
band making  up  to  a  creature  that  yer  honor  wouldn't  wipe 
your  shoes  on,  saving  yer  presence,  and  she  calling  him  Mr. 
Mahone,  and  talking  about  a  wedding-dress  that  stands 
alone  with  richness,  and  a  Miss  Spicer,  who  wants  eternal 
and  everlasting  disgrace  to  fall  on  a  family  by  the  name  of 
Laurence. 

'•  Well,  yer  honor,  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is  this  en- 
tin  -1  y.  Jared  Boyce  and  his  brother,  me  own  lawfuliv-wed- 
ded  husband,  robbed  Mr.  Smith's  store,  both  of  groceries  and 
money,  which  they  divided  atween  them,  in  my  own  room, 
and  the  groceries  they  packed  away  under  my  bed  and  in 
the  closet,  and  me  saying  nothing,  till  they  come  one  night 
and  carried  them  away  ;  so  I,  being  put  about  by  this,  fol- 
lowed  after  them,  and,  with  my  own  eyes,  saw  Jared  and 
me  husband  hide  the  groceries  and  other  things  away  in  a 
woodhouse  back  of  a  little  place  where  I  afterwards  saw 
yon  woman  going  in  and  out  as  if  she  belonged  there. 

'•  Well,  yer  honor,  I  said  nothing  about  that,  but  minded 
me  work,  and  keeping  the  baby  nice  in  hopes  it  might  'tice 
me  husband  home  more,  wondering  what  it  all  meant,  when 
I  found  out  behind  that  close-horse  in  the  laundry  what 
was  going  on  in  them  underground  rooms,  where  servants 
set  up  for  ladirs  ;  I  just  wiped  the  soap  suds  from  my  arms, 
put  on  my  bit  of  a  hood  and  foregathered  awhile  with  a 
nan  that  Btanda  on  our  corner,  about  the  best  way  of 
telling  the  truth  and  keeping  me  husband  from  that  prowl- 
ing lion  with  the  cap,  and  it  please  your  honor,  he  told  me 
to  come  down  here,  and  never  fear  thai  your  honor  wouldn't 
give  Robert  a  taste  of  Blackwell's  Island  which  1  hope  you 


AN      UNEXPECTED      WITNESS.  267 

will,  just  enough  to  set  him  straight  and  keep  him  out  of 
the  way  of  females  in  caps  till  he  turns  to  his  own  lawfully 
married  wife  and  child.  That  is  all  I  ask  your  honor,  and 
if  you  don't  believe  me,  just  send  some  one  up  to  me  little 
place  and  I'll  show  him  a  chist  of  tea  and  a  box  of  crackers 
that  they  left  with  me,  besides  other  things  just  to  pacify 
me  for  taking  off  the  rest,  which  I  didn't  like  at  all,  not 
always  haviug  tea  and  such  things  in  the  house." 

Here  Mrs.  Boyce  was  interrupted  by  the  Judge,  who 
pointed  towards  the  door,  and  in  a  stern  voice  ordered  the 
officer  to  stop  that  man. 

The  man  was  Jared  Boyce,  who  had  been  making  sickly 
efforts  to  slink  out  of  sight,  while  his  sister-in-law  was  giv- 
ing her  evidence.  He  had  crept  up  to  the  door  through 
which  he  was  about  to  make  a  desperate  plunge  just  as  the 
Judge  observed  him.  Terrified  and  shaking  from  head  to 
foot,  the  poor  wretch  muttered  that  he  wasn't  meaning  to 
go  out,  and  retreated  to  the  nearest  bench,  where  his  limbs 
shrunk  together,  and  his  face  grew  more  and  more  livid,  as 
the  woman  rambled  on  with  her  evidence. 

"  Your  honor,"  said  she,  "  I  don't  want  yez  to  be  hard 
on  my  Bobert.  A  week  at  Blackwell's  Island  will  be 
plenty  to  bring  him  to  his  sinses  and  make  an  honest  man 
and  dutiful  husband  of  him.  But  as  for  the  woman  who 
was  tempting  him  into  unlawful  bigermy,  as  the  perliceman 
calls  it ;  twenty  years  wouldn't  be  too  much  for  her,  with 
plinty  of  hard  work  at  the  wash-tub,  and  bread  and  water 
to  live  on." 

Here  Mrs.  Boyce  was  preparing  to  step  down  from  the 
witness  stand  but  turned  back  again,  having  thought  of 
something  else. 

"It  was  that  female,  your  honor,  that  set  him  on  to  par- 
secute  this  woman,  that  never  says  a  word  or  cries  a  tear 
more  an  if  she  was  made  of  stone,  yer  honor ;  and  it  was 
her  that  put  him  up  to  marrying  her  owuself  before  the 


THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

priest,  so  ye  cannot  give  the  crather  too  much  punishment, 
which  is  all  I  have  to  say,  that  I  think  of  now." 

J  Living  thus  expressed  her  wishes.  Mrs.  Boyce  came  down 
from  the  witness  stand  with  a  look  of  triumph  on  the  face 
th  it  had  been  stained  with  tears  when  she  went  up;  for  she 
bad  great  faith  in  her  own  eloquence,  and  entertained  no 
ibt  that  the  judge  would  kindly  deal  out  justice  exactly 
as  she  had  recommended,  for  he  had  seemed  deeply  inter- 
1,  and  smiled  more  than  once  while  she  was  giving  her 
evidence. 

Jlut  the  woman's  countenance  fell  when  she  saw  Jared 
crouching  on  his  bench,  pale  and  shivering  with  dread  of 
the  fate  her  words  had  prepared  for  him.  She  went  up  to 
him,  with  a  little  hesitation,  and  was  about  to  assure  him  of 
lnr  protection,  but  he  glared  upon  her  like  a  wild  beast,  and 
turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  muttering  hoarsely, 

•'  I  ret  out  of  my  sight,  you  fool !  It  is  in  States  Prison 
f.'i-  year-  you've  put  me  and  your  own  husband  this  day." 

C  woman  was  struck  dumb  by  his  words;  the  color  left 
her  face  to  its  natural  wan  misery.  She  looked  wildly 
around  toward  the  judge,  who  was  talking  with  the  tall 
gentleman  who  had  entered  the  court  room  so  quietly.  She 
looked  again  at  Boyce,  and  in  a  broken,  piteous  voice  be- 
sought him  to  tell  her  the  truth,  would  the  judge  be  so  cruel 
after  all  she  had  said  to  him." 

'■I'ruel.  you  idiot!  he  can't  help  himself,"  answered  the 
clerk,  livid  with  malice  and  cowardly  dread,  "  you've  done 
for  me,  and  you've  done  for  your  own  husband." 

"  No,  DO,  it's  wanting  to  break  my  heart  ye  are.  just  out 
Of  spite  ;  but  I  don't  believe  ye.  It's  the  woman  he'll  send 
ap  yonder." 

"The  woman,  he  can't  touch  her!" 

•'  What  !    what   is  it  ye  -ay." 

'•  That  woman  w  ill  .'airy  her  head  high  as  ever,  while  you 
are  worse  than  a  widow,  that's  what  I  say.,J 


AN     UNEXPECTED     WITNESS.  269 

"A  widely — me  a  widdy,  whist  now,  Jared,  it's  jokin'  ye 
are." 

"  Joking,"  repeated  the  clerk,  bitterly,  •'•'  It  seems  like  a 
joke,  don't  it  ?  They  are  making  out  the  warrants  now, 
but  I  can  tell  you  this,  for  your  comfort.  Robert  will  be 
married  before  they  can  reach  him." 

"  Married  !     To  that  woman  ?  " 

"  To  that  woman." 

Once  more  Mrs.  Boyce  rushed  before  the  judge. 

"  Oh,  yer  honor — " 

The  judge  waved  her  back,  he  was  giving  orders  about 
some  papers  that  a  clerk  was  writing  out. 

"  But,  yer  honor,"  persisted  the  distracted  creature. 

"  You  can  go  home  now,  my  good  woman.  The  officer 
will  let  you  know  when  you  are  wanted  again,"  said  the 
judge,  without  lifting  his  eyes. 

The  poor  woman  looked  wildly  around  the  court  room,  but 
there  was  no  one  to  whom  she  could  appeal.  Then  struck 
with  the  thought  that  her  husband  was  perhaps  being 
married,  she  rushed  from  the  room. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  this  poor  wife,  stung  with  regret 
for  what  she  had  done,  and  tortured  with  dread,  reached  the 
vicinity  of  Mrs.  Lambert's  dwelling.  She  dared  not  at- 
tempt to  go  in,  but  walked  up  and  down  the  block,  keeping 
the  servants'  entrance  in  view  all  the  time.  Once  or  twice 
she  passed  a  police  officer  who  seemed  watching  like  herself, 
but  shunned  him  with  trembling  dread.  What  did  he  want 
there,  and  who  was  he  waiting  for? 

After  it  became  quite  dark,  the  poor  woman  lingered  in 
sight  of  the  house.  She  had  walked  all  the  way  down  to 
the  Tombs  and  back  again,  her  limbs  were  weary,  her  heart 
ached  with  apprehension.  Oh,  if  she  could  only  see  her 
husband  one  moment  to  warn  him  of  the  danger  her  own 
ignorance  had  brought  upon  him. 

The  woman  grew  desperate,  she  could  pace  that  sidewalk 


270  T  II  E     REIGNING      BELLE. 

get.  If  was  quite  dark  and  her  child  would  be  crying 
with  hunger;  at  any  rate  she  would  ring  at  the  servants' 
door. 

\&  Blre.  Boyce  was  advancing  for  that  purpose  a  carriage 
drove  up  She  hesitated  and  drew  back  into  a  shadow  of 
the  garden  wall.  The  policeman  was  near  her,  but  she  was 
too  much  absorbed  to  observe  him. 

Directly  the  door  opened  and  two  persons  came  out. 
One  a  figure  in  flowing  white  garments  that  gleamed  like 
snow  across  the  darkness;  the  other  a  man.  There  was  a 
pause  near  the  carriage,  and  the  woman  was  close  enough  to 
hear  every  word  these  two  persons  said.  The  woman  drew 
back  and  seemed  to  hesitate  about  entering  the  carriage. 

"Your  friend  is  not  here;  we  cannot  proceed  without 
him  ;  there  must  be  witnesses,"  she  said. 

"But  we  shall  find  them  at  the  minister's,"  pleaded  the 
man.  "  I  don't  preteud  to  know  what  keeps  my  friend 
Boyce,  but  one  witness  is  as  good  as  another;  do  step  in,  or 
we  shall  be  late." 

Ellen  Post  had  her  foot  on  the  step  and  was  gathering 
the  bridal  veil  about  her,  when  a  strange  hand  was  laid  on 
her  arm,  and  the  face  of  Mrs.  Boyce  gleamed  on  her  with 
the  lamp-light  full  upon  it. 

•■  Woman,  go  back  into  the  house,  take  off  them  white 
things  and  ask  God  to  forgive  you.  This  man  is  my  own 
law  fully  wedded  husband." 

The  deep,  honest  feeling  of  the  wife  gave  dignity  to  her 
ipei  ch.  Ellen  Post  stepped  back  and  stood  gazing  on  her, 
pale  and  breathless. 

"Who  are  you?  What  does  this  mean?"  she  faltered 
at  la 

"  1  am  tli is  man's  wife,  that's  what  I  am,  and  we  have 
hild,  wln.-h  you  can  see  any  day  if  you  will  come  to 
my  place,  Ellen  Poi 

••  1  don'l  believe  it.  Mahone,  Mahone,come  here  and  tell 
thia  woman  she  lii 


WAITING      FOR     NEAVS.  271 

"Oh  Eobert,  Eobert,  run  for  your  life.  Jared  is  in 
prison  ;  they  will  be  after  you,"  pleaded  the  poor  wronged 
wife.     "  Don't  wait  for  anything,  but  go." 

"Why  don't  you  speak  ?  Why  don't  you  deny  this  ?" 
demanded  Ellen  Post,  stamping  her  whitely-clad  foot  on 
the  sidewalk. 

"  The  gentleman  has  something  else  to  do,"  answered  the 
strange  voice  of  a  man  who  had  quietly  drawn  near  and 
laid  his  hand  on  Mahone's  shoulder. 

"  Eobert  Boyce,  you  must  go  with  me." 

"  A  policeman ! "  faltered  the  bride,  "  what  does  this 
mean  ?  " 

"A  policeman,"  moaned  the  wife;  "oh  Eobert,  Eobert, 
say  you  forgive  me  !  " 

Boyce  turned  his  wild  eyes  from  his  wife  to  the  officer, 
and  stared  a  moment  in  the  man's  face.  Then  he  made  a 
sudden  twist,  wrenched  himself  free,  and  made  a  bound  for- 
ward— one  bound  and  the  heavy  hand  grasped  his  shoulder 
again. 

Before  either  of  the  women  could  speak,  Eobert  Boyce 
was  led  off  into  the  darkness. 


CHAPTEE  LXI. 

WAITING    FOR    NEWS 


There  is  not,  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  more  harassing 
trouble  than  that  which  springs  out  of  ignorance  and  sus- 
pense. Eva  and  Euth  Laurence  had  but  a  wild  and  vague 
idea  of  the  evil  that  had  fallen  on  the  two  most  beloved 
members  of  their  little  household.  They  knew  nothing  of 
the  law,  and  imprisonment  to  them  was  an  awful  blending 
of  suffering  and  disgrace,  to  which  the  unchecked  imagina- 
tion lent  unknown  horrors. 


272  THE     RBIGNING      BELLE. 

They  sat  together  for  a  time  in  dead  silence,  each  afraid 
to  sp.  ;ik.  lest  she  should  add  something  to  the  distress  ol 
the  other.  But,  as  time  wore  on,  this  stillness  became 
intolerable.  Eva  sprang  to  her  feet  and  began  to  walk  the 
room,  with  the  wild  restless  tread  of  a  panther  in  its  cage; 
while  Bath  clasped  both  slender  hands  over  her  bosom,  and 
let  the  tears  run  unchecked,  from  under  her  closed  eyelids. 

"  <  >h,  Both,  Both!  what  must  we  do!"  cried  out  Eva, 
wringing  her  hands  and  wrenching  them  apart  with  impet- 
uous force.  "  I  cannot  stay  here  waiting  in  this  way ;  he, 
ought  not  to  ask  it." 

"  But  what  can  we  do  ?  Ah,  me  !  how  helpless  we  poor 
girls  are !  "  said  Ruth,  opening  her  eyes,  and  wiping  away 
the  tears  with  her  trembling  hand.  "Even  your  strength 
would  be  wasted,  and  I  am  so  weak." 

'•  Oh,  if  I  had  something  to  lift — some  great  load  to  carry 
— sister,  sister,  I  can  believe  now  how  ready  persecuted  wo- 
men were  to  walk,  unshod,  among  hot  ploughshares.  I 
could  do  it  to  save  them  aud  bring  them  back  to  us  safe. 
I  could  !  I  could  !  " 

••  My  sister,  my  own,  own  Eva,  be  patient.  It  would  be 
only  wasted  strength  if  you  could  do  all  this;  be  patient  and 
wait !" 

"  \\  ait,  wait !  that  is  a  woman's  destiny  in  this  world," 
said  Eva,  with  passionate  vehemence  ;  "  but  how  can  we — 
can  we  ?     The  pain  of  it  is  driving  me  wild  !  " 

"  Remember,"  answered  Ruth,  speaking  softly  in  her 
sweet  patience,  "  we  have  a  strong,  good  man  at  work  for 
us.     Is  there  no  strength  and  hope  in  that?" 

'•  Bat  I  want  to  do  something  ;  I  must,  I  must." 

••  Deal  Eva,  what  can  you  do?  Is  it  nothing  that  we 
have  already  woo  Bach  a  friend?  have  patience,  sister." 

"Patience,  Bath,  I  have  nothing  but  apprehension  and 

fear.     Think  of  her,  our  mother,  so  still,  so  proud.       Yes, 

the  proudest  woman  1  ever  saw,  with  all  our  poverty 


WAITING     FOR     NEWS.  273 

and  struggles  ;  think  of  her  in  the  hands  of  a  policeman — 
in  a  cell  of  the  tombs." 

"  I  do  think  of  it,  and  it  leaves  me  weak  as  a  child  ;  but 
Eva,  there  is  a  God  above." 

Eva  turned  away  from  the  sweet  invalid  with  a  gesture 
of  sharp  impatience. 

"  Yet  our  mother,  and  the  dearest,  brightest,  noblest  boy 
that  ever  lived,  are  forced  from  their  homes,  and  innocent  as 
angels,  dragged  like  wolves  through  our  streets.  I  cannot 
understand  it;  I  cannot  understand  it!" 

"  Oh,  Eva,  Eva,  have  some  faith  in  the  justice  of  God,  in 
the  energy  and  goodness  of  this  man  who  has  already  done 
so  much  for  us.  I  am  sure  he  will  bring  them  back 
again ! " 

'•  But  the  time  lengthens  so.  It  is  hours  and  hours  since 
she  was  taken  away  !  All  night  long  that  poor  child  has 
been  shut  up  in  a  prison.     Oh,  it  is  terrible  !  " 

"Ah,  here  is  something;  a  carriage  stops  at  the  door. 
It  brings  us  news,  good  or  bad,"  cried  Ruth,  now  as  much 
excited  as  her  sister.     "  Run  to  the  door,  Eva." 

Eva  had  already  sprung  into  the  little  entry,  opened  the 
door  and  met  Mrs.  Smith  half  way  from  the  gate. 

"What,  what  is  it?  Where  are  they?"  she  enquired, 
breathless  with  dread  and  impatience. 

Mrs.  Smith  took  the  girl  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her, 
leaving  a  stain  of  tears  on  her  cheek. 

"Don't  be  afraid;  don't  be  anxious.  They'll  both  be 
here  in  less  than  no  time ;  I  jumped  into  a  hack  which 
Smith  will  have  to  pay  for,  thank  goodness,  and  made  the 
driver  hurry  up  his  horses  to  an  extent  that  they  will  never 
think  of." 

"  Then  they  are  free  ?  they  are  coming  ?  " 

"Free  as  birds,  and  coming  along  full  split,  no  mistake 
about  that.  They  wanted  me  to  take  the  empty  seat,  but  I 
had  not  the  face  to  do  it  after  Smith's  conduct ;  though  he 
17 


274  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

did  melt  i- 1 -_r  1 1 1   down   and  try  to  back  out  when  be  saw  bow 
I  took  on." 

By  tlif  time  this  stream  of  words  bad  heralded  the  good 
woman's  news,  Bhe  was  in  the  parlor,  had  half  lifted  Ruth 
from  lier  couch,  and  was  lavishing  hearty  kisses  on  her  pale 

■•  What  has  happened?  what  did  they  do  down  there? 
No  wonder  you  want  to  know  all  about  it.  Well,  I  went 
straight  down  to  the  Tombs,  which  is  just  the  lonesomest 
pile  of  stones  inside,  that  you  ever  set  eyes  on;  pillars  like 
them  Sampson  carried  off  on  his  shoulders,  and  stone  rooms 
that  chill  one  like  graves.  Well,  I  wandered  about  among 
them  hunting  up  your  mother  and  that  precious  boy,  till  I 
found  them  at  last  in  a  room  full  of  benches  with  a  short 
counter  along  one  end,  and  a  man  sitting  behind  it,  and 
there  stood  your  mother  looking  stern  and  gray  as  a  rock  in 
the  winter,  and  there  was  little  Jimmy  a  standing  by  her 
with  his  big  eyes  full  of  tears,  which  he  kept  wiping  away. 
for  fear  folks  might  see  him  cry,  poor  darling;  and  that 
fellow  Boyce  had  been  telling  his  lies,  and  Smith  was  back- 
ing him  up,  and  things  looked  awful  cloudy  till  I  up  and 
had  my  say,  though  Smith  was  standing  there  wanting  to 
stop  me,  and  Mr.  Ross,  my  friend  Mrs.  Carter's  brother, 
come  in  and  stood  by  your  mother  like  a  monument.  But 
I  would  have  my  say,  and  I  did." 

••  I   haven't  any  doubt,  girls,  that  this  speech  of  mine  did 

th<-  business;  but  another  woman  came  in  and  finished  up 

tin-  wl   'le  thing.      She  was  Jared  Boyce's  brother's  wife. 

they  diil  the  robbing  and   stealing,  and  hid  the  things 

in  your  wood-house.     I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  scamp 

B       e,  when   the  woman  told  on  him;   he  was  just  as  gray 

I   all  skimped  up;   you    wouldn't   have   known 

him — anyway.   I    shouldn't;    and    Smith    is  just  about   the 

sheepiest  man  yon  ever  Bot  eyes  on,  and  wants  me  to  say 

how  awful  sony  he  is,  which  I  won't;  and  what  a  fool  he 

ten,  which   1  will. 


WAITING      FOR      NEWS.  275 

"There,  now!  Didn't  I  tell  you!  Here  they  come,  all 
in  one  carriage,  just  as  good  as  new.  Let  me  lift  you  up, 
Ruthy,  and  }'ou  can  see  'em  get  out,  Mr.  Ross  and  all,  who 
is  a  gentleman,  if  one  ever  lived.     There,  there!  " 

Trembling  with  joy,  Ruth  looked  out  and  saw  Eva  dart- 
ing down  the  front  walk  with  her  arms  extended. 

Little  James  leaped  into  them  and  clung  to  her  neck, 
covering  her  face  with  kisses;  then  he  made  a  bound  into 
the  house,  and  Ruth  saw  no  more  ;  for  his  arms  were  around 
her,  and  his  voice  filled  the  room  with  its  sobbing  gladness. 

Directly  Eva  came  in  clinging  to  her  mother,  who  moved 
up  the  walk  with  her  usual  grave  step,  and  put  aside  her 
bonnet  and  shawl  before  she  said  a  word.  Then  she  came 
up  to  Ruth,  knelt  by  her  side,  and  laid  her  head  upon  the 
cushion  like  one  who  throws  down  a  heavy  burden  and 
longs  to  rest  herself  awhile. 

Gentle  Ruth  drew  close  to  the  old  woman,  and  with  tear- 
ful kisses,  softened  the  stony  grayness  of  her  lips,  until 
they  began  to  tremble.  Then  her  whole  frame  shook,  and, 
clinging  to  the  girl,  she  cried  out,  "  Oh,  God  be  thanked,  I 
am  home  again!"  in  a  voice  that  made  everyone  in  the 
room  weep ;  for  feelings  so  restrained  and  pent  up  are  terri- 
ble in  their  force  when  they  once  break  bounds. 

Mrs.  Smith  sat  down  in  the  corner  of  the  room  and  cried 
piteously  as  she  took  in  the  deep  pathos  of  this  reunion. 
She  had  begun  to  soften  toward  her  husband,  accepting  his 
sin  upon  her  own  shoulders ;  and  thus  sat  condemned  before 
the  family  he  had  so  grievously  afflicted. 

The  boy  James  saw  this,  and  went  up  to  her,  wiping 
away  the  tears  from  his  radiant  eyes. 

"  Oh,  what  should  we  have  done  if  you  had  not  been  our 
friend?"  he  said;  "poor  mother  would  have  been  there  all 
alone  with  me ;  but  you  did  not  forget  us." 

"  Oh,  Jimmy,  Jimmy  !  You  will  never  want  to  live  with 
us  again,"  said  the  good  woman. 


THK     REIGNING     BELLE. 

"Won't  I  though  :**  answered  the  boy,  eagerly. 

rposed  Mr.  B  ss;  "sol  mg  as  lie  works 
for  any  one,  Mrs.  Smith  ;  but  we  most  put  him  to  school  and 

I  ollege.     Don't  you  think  so,  madam  ?  " 
•■  Wliat  me,  me'.      You  don't  mean  it,  Mr.  Ros 
••  J'.ut  I  do  mean  it."' 

■•  I. vi.  Eutb,  mother!  do  you  hear  that?     Hurra  !     This 
morning  I  was  in  a  prison-cell  that  seemed  dug  out  of  a 
rock;  and   now — now  I*m   going   to  college!     Why   d 
you  stop  crying  and  say  Hurra  !  every  one  of  you,  Hurra  !  " 


CHAPTER    LXII. 

THE    MORTGAGE. 


A  master  will  had  been  at  work  and  removed  all  the 
principal  reasons  that  kept  Eva  Laurence  in  the  old  home 
at  the  cottage.  James  had  never  been  permitted  to  return 
to  his  work  at  Smith's  grocery,  though  that  repentant  man 
would  gladly  have  appeased  his  conscience  and  the  wrath- 
ful compunctions  of  his  wife,  by  giving  him  the  position  so 
summarily  vacated  by  Boyce.  This  arrangement  Mr.  Boss 
had  frustrated,  by  placing  James,  after  a  short  examination, 
in  the  entering  class  of  the  City  Academy,  when  his  busi- 
ness education  commenced,  while  Boyce,  with  his  aristocratic 
'.:•  r.  made  a  quick  passage  through  the  Court  of  >  - 
sinns.  This  precious  pair  of  worthies  were  already  com- 
>urn  of  three  years  each  at  Sing  Sing,  to  the 
infii  sfiss   Ellen  Poet,  and  the  profound  grief 

of  the  poor  w 

This  ill-used  woman,  in  the  first  fire  of  jealousy,  and  in 

the  blindness  of  perfect  ignorance,  had  denounced  the  two 

.,  in  a  vague  hope  that  the  court  would  have  power  to 


THE      MORTGAGE.  277 

bring  her  husband  back  into  the  bosom  of  her  family  a  bet- 
ter and  kinder  man.  How  keenly  she  had  been  disap- 
pointed, and  how  many  bitter  tears  she  shed  over  her  help- 
less babe,  no  one  but  the  unhappy  drudge  herself  could  tell. 
Miss  Spicer,  too,  suffered  both  in  reputation  and  temper. 
Her  name  had  been  roughly  handled  in  the  trial,  and  her 
plan  of  disgrace  for  the  Laurence  family  had  recoiled  on 
herself.  But  this  young  lady  was  not  of  a  nature  to  feel 
the  shame  of  this  exposure  keenly,  or  abandon  a  project 
which  she  had  once  set  her  mind  upon.  Of  course,  she  de- 
nied the  whole  thing,  and  called  on  Ellen  Post  to  witness 
that  the  story  told  by  Mrs.  Boyce,  and  confirmed  by  the 
two  convicted  men,  was  a  fabrication  from  beginning  to 
end.  Mrs.  Lambert  believed  this,  and  Ivon  would  not  permit 
himself  to  doubt  it ;  for  to  a  generous  and  noble  character 
like  his,  the  undercraft  and  meanness  of  a  small  nature  is 
simply  incomprehensible. 

As  for  Ellen,  she  was  a  ready  witness  in  the  young  lady's 
behalf,  for  the  check  had  been  honored  before  Miss  Spicer 
knew  of  the  failure  of  her  conspiracy,  and  the  waiting  maid 
was  willing  to  make  any  return  that  did  not  involve  the 
money  itself. 

As  for  the  little  episode  of  the  wedding  garments.  Ellen 
passed  it  off  with  an  airy  declaration  that  she  had  only  been 
altering  a  dress  for  Miss  Spicer,  and  punished  the  curiosity 
of  her  fellow  servants  by  a  canard,  they  were  all  fools  for 
believing. 

But  the  malice  of  Miss  Spicer  was  not  to  be  checked  by  a 
single  defeat.  By  some  means  she  had  learned  that  Mrs. 
Lambert's  agent  held  a  mortgage  on  the  Laurence  cottage, 
which  the  harassed  family  had  allowed  to  sink  into  an 
almost  hopeless  amount  by  unpaid  interest.  This  mortgage 
she  empowered  her  own  agent  to  purchase  and  forclose  at 
once.  It  was  an  act  of  vengeance,  which  she  hoped  would 
destroy  all  vestige  of  respectability  which  this  poor  house- 


'_'  >  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

hold  had  struggled  so  hard  to  maintain.     But  even  here  she 
lefeated  ignominiously. 

Mrs.  Carter  happened  to  be  in  the  Laurence  parlor  when 
the  notice  of  this  new  calamity  was  served  upon  the  family. 
had  called  to  urge  once  more  the  acceptance  of  her 
noble  offer  on  Eva.  before  going  out  on  a  shopping  excursion 
which  was  to  terminate  at  Ball  &  Black's,  where  something 
unusually  splendid,  in  the  way  of  a  diamond  bracelet,  had 
been  offered  to  her  attention. 

"Come,  now,  get  into  the  carriage,  and  we'll  talk  over 
affairs  as  we  ride  along,"  said  the  good-hearted  woman, 
whose  desire  to  have  Eva  with  her  had  grown  into  a  passion. 
"  I  ve  got  Carter's  check  for  the  bracelet,  which  is  gorgeous, 
but  I  want  your  opinion.  I  wish  Miss  Buthy  here  could  go 
too  ;  but  she  shall  see  it  when  we  come  back.  Come,  dear, 
step  about  lively,  or  we  shall  have  Battles  sulking  again." 

As  Eva  went  to  get  her  bonnet,  two  important  events 
happened.  The  notice  of  foreclosure  was  put  in  her  hand 
b}r  a  strange  young  man.  whose  ring  at  the  bell  had  drawn 
her  to  the  front  door,  and  while  she  was  wondering  what  it 
could  mean,  the  postman  came  into  the  yard  with  a  letter 
from  the  establishment  in  which  her  duties  lay.  This  letter 
curtly  dismissed  her  from  the  situation,  which  was  forfeited, 
the  proprietor  said,  by  her  impertinence  to  Miss  Spicer,  a 
young  lady  who  had  been  a  most  valuable  customer,  and  had 
Dally  entered  a  complaint  against  her. 

Carrying  the  two  documents  in  her  hand,  Eva  went  back 
to  the  parlor  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  a  throb  of  bitter 
pain  at  her  heart. 

■■  I  >ear  me,  how  white  you  look  !  What  is  the  matter?" 
questioned  Mrs.  Carter,  lifting  herself  from  the  eas3'-chair, 
and  laying  her  hand  on  Eva's  arm.  ''What  is  there  in 
them  papers  that  makes  you  shiver  so?" 

Eva  turned  her  heavy  eyes  upon  the  kind-hearted  ques- 
tioner. 


THE     MORTGAGE.  279 

"  The  letter  is  for  rue,"  she  said.     "  I've  lost  my  place." 

"  Lost  your  place  ?     Well,  I'm  glad  of  it ! " 

a  That  is  nothing.  Other  establishments  exist;  but  this 
— this  cruel  slip  of  paper  is  terrible.  I  think — I  fear  it 
will  turn  us  all  out  of  doors  !  Oh,  my  poor  mother  !  How 
will  she  bear  it?  After  all  that  has  been  put  upon  her,  I 
would  rather  place  a  serpent  in  her  hand  than  this." 

"  Let  me  look  at  it  before  you  do  that,"  said  Mrs.  Carter, 
resolutely.  "  I  understand  these  things  better  than  any  of 
you."  , 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  she  took  the  paper,  and  read 
it  with  an  eager,  cheerful  look,  which  went  to  Eva's  heart. 
"  It  is  easy,"  she  thought,  "  for  the  rich  to  look  on  such 
things  as  trifles  ;  but  for  us  !  She  cannot  understand  how 
terrible  it  is  for  us  !  " 

"  How  much  does  all  this  amount  to  ? "  inquired  Mrs. 
Carter,  with  prompt  energy.     "  Does  any  one  know  ?  " 

"  Indeed  !  indeed !  we  all  know  too  well.  Every  cent,  as 
it  ran  up,  has  been  counted  over  and  over  again,"  said  gentle 
Ruth.  "As  to  the  interest,  I  have  something  toward  that, 
and  might  have  earned  more  and  more,  if  they  would  only 
have  given  me  time  ;  but  now " 

The  poor  girl  stopped  short ;  tears  were  crowding  on  her 
speech  with  such  bitter  force,  that  she  clasped  both  hands 
over  her  face,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"  There  !  there  !  None  of  that !  It  is  all  nonsense,  you 
know.  What  is  the  amount  ?  That  is  the  question  before 
the  American  people." 

Eva,  with  her  eyes  seeking  the  floor,  told  the  sum,  in  a 
shrill  whisper ;  for  now,  when  the  amount  was  demanded, 
it  seemed  enormous,  and  her  lips  gave  it  forth  with  a  spasm. 

This  miserable  sound  had  scarcely  left  her  throat,  when 
the  little  parlor  was  filled  with  mellow  laughter,  which 
seemed  to  mock  and  overpower  Ruthy's  sobs,  and  her  sister's 
anguish. 


280  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

"What,  only  that!" 

"Only  that!"  exclaimed  Eva,  kindling  with  astonish- 
ment. "  It  is  more  than  enough  to  turn  us  all  out  of  house 
and  home !  " 

"  l'»ut,  my  child,  the  lots  are  worth  three  times  the  money. 
You  have  no  idea  how  property  has  risen  since  the  war." 

"  I  don't  know,  and  if  I  did,  what  good  would  it  do  with- 
out a  dollar  in  hand  ?  " 

"No!  no!  Eva;  I  have  been  saving;  I  have  got  money 
— not  anything  to  what  they  want,  but  some,"  cried  Ruth, 
wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  which  somehow  began  to 
kindle  with  vague  hope. 

"  Oh,  Euthy  !  we  shall  want  that  to  keep  us  from  starv- 
ing. My  place  is  gone  ;  James  has  nothing  to  do !  Mrs. 
Carter,  please  give  me  that  paper.  Mother  must  know.  It 
is  only  cruelty  to  hold  it  back." 

"Not  just  yet,  if  you  please.  Bad  news  comes  to  a  head 
soon  enough,  without  forcing.  Go  and  get  your  things; 
there  will  be  time  to  settle  that  when  we  come  back. 
Don't  you  see  Battles  snapping  the  flowers  with  his  whip  ; 
that  shows  that  he  is  getting  furious — so  do  make  haste." 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

THE    PRICE    OF    A    BRACELET. 


Eva  obeyed.  Perhaps  she  was  glad  to  accept  the  respite 
which  Mrs.  Carter  offered  her.  Still  her  hands  trembled  as 
she  fastened  the  tiny  bonnet  on  her  head,  and  covered  her 
face  with  a  veil,  with  a  vain  effort  to  hide  all  traces  of  the 
tears  that  still  welled  up  to  her  eyes,  spite  of  all  her  efforts. 

"  Come  now,  let  us  be  off.  Just  keep  cool,  and  don't  fret 
yourself  into  a  fever,  till  wo  come  back,"  said  Mr*.  Carter, 


THE      PRICE      OF      A     BRACELET.  281 

kissing  Ruth  before  she  went  out,  "and  not  a  word  to  the 
grim— I  mean  nice  old  lady  in  yonder.  There,  there,  no 
more  sobbing — she'll  hear  you." 

Bright  as  a  sunbeam,  and  full  of  energy,  which  contrasted 
with  Eva's  mournful  lassitude,  Mrs.  Carter  swept  through 
the  little  yard,  and  for  once  defied  Battles'  evident  ill-tem- 
per. 

"Drive  to  Carter's  office,"  she  said,  "and  be  quick  about 
it.  Don't  dare  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  them  horses' 
hoofs,  when  I'm  in  the  carriage.  Get  in,  my  dear ;  don't 
wait  for  me.  There  now,  we  are  ever  so  comfortable — you 
and  I." 

Away  went  the  carriage  at  full  speed,  for  Battles,  not 
daring  to  disobey  orders  entirely,  resolved  to  vent  his  ill- 
temper  by  overdoing  them.  At  another  time  the  sulky 
coachman  might  have  terrified  the  good  lady  within,  by  the 
reckless  speed  with  which  he  crashed  into  the  carts  and  omni- 
buses on  his  way  toward  Wall  Street.  As  it  was,  this  hidden 
motive  seemed  nothing  more  than  prompt  obedience. 

"  Tell  Carter  to  come  out ;  I  want  to  speak  to  him,"  said 
the  lady,  when  Battles  drew  up  near  the  office-door,  and 
the  footman  looked  in  for  orders. 

In  a  few  moments,  Carter  came  down  the  steps,  rosy  and 
smiling,  his  heavy  watch-chain  swinging  loosely  down  from 
the  pocket  of  his  white  vest,  and  the  diamonds  in  his  bosom 
glistening  richly. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  he  inquired,  looking  into  the  car- 
riage, and  nodding  kindly  to  Eva.  "Brought  the  article 
down  for  me  to  look  at,  I  suppose.  It  is  of  no  use  ;  if  you 
like  it,  that's  enough." 

Mrs.  Carter  took  out  her  reticule-purse,  opened  the  gold 
clasp,  and  took  a  scrap  of  paper  from  it. 

"  Just  cut  that  in  two,  and  give  me  half.  I've  changed  my 
mind  about  the  bracelet.  It  isn't  much  of  an  affair,  after 
all,  that  is,  considering  the  price  asked.     I've  made  up  my 


282  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

mind  to  invest  in  real  estate.  So,  just  cut  down  the  check, 
and  let  me  go." 

Cartel  langhed  till  the  diamonds  in  his  bosom  shook  off 
quirk  flashes  of  light. 

"Well,  tli is  is  a  new  idea.  Cut  down  a  check  half, 
»  one's  wife  is  going  into  real  estate !  Haven't  made 
so  much  money  on  one  job  in  a  week.  Here,  come  along, 
you  fellow." 

Beckoning  joyously  to  the  footman,  Carter  went  into  his 
office  with  the  check  in  his  hand.  Directly  the  servant 
came  out  with  the  abridged  paper  neatly  folded,  which  Mrs. 
c  put  into  her  purse,  and  gave  another  order  regarding 
the  r^ute  her  carriage  was  to  take  on  its  way  home.  The 
good  woman  got  out  once  or  twice,  leaving  Eva  alone,  and 
at  last  came  from  a  lawyer's  office  with  a  folded  paper  in 
her  hand,  which  was  hurried  into  her  pocket,  when  she  saw 
Eva  looking  at  it. 

Once  more  Battles  drew  up  his  horses  at  Mrs.  Laurence's 
gate,  and  with  his  heavy  face  clouded  with  disgust,  waited 
gloomily  for  his  mistress  to  go  into  that  shanty,  as  he  was 
pleased  to  call  it. 

Mrs.  Carter,  oblivious  of  her  servant's  discontent,  bustled 
out  of  her  carriage.  She  almost  lifted  Eva  to  the  ground, 
and  opened  the  gate  for  herself,  absolutely  pushing  the  foot- 
man on  one  side,  and  bursting  her  delicate  mauve  glove  in 
the  operation. 

'Now,  my  dears,  you  can  call  that  mother  of  yours! 
D  'nt  stop  to  take  off  j'our  bonnet,  Eva,  but  bring  her  in. 
That's  right.  Here  she  comes,  looking  as  if  she  expected  a 
policeman.  Mrs.  Laurence,  my  dear  neighbor,  my  darling 
good  woman!  here  is  something  for  you;  just  a  trifle — a 
little  mite  of  a  present.  Take  it,  and  chuck  it,  neck  and 
into  the  hottest  corner  of  your  cooking-stove." 

Mrs.  Laurence  took  the  paper  in  her  hand,  looked  at 
the  Lndorsemi  nt,  looked  at  Mrs.  Carter.     The  color  flushed 


THE      ADOPTION.  283 

into  her  face ;  tears,  that  imprisonment  and  wrong  had 
failed  to  wring  from  her,  came,  drop  by  drop,  into  her  hard 
eyes. 

"Why,  why  this  is  the  mortgage!"  she  said.  "The  old 
mortgage,  that  was  eating  up  everything !  " 

"Exactly.  Put  it  in  the  stove,  and  never  think  of  it 
again.  It  is  mine,  and  I  give  it  to  you  for  a  nice  little  bon- 
fire. Eva,  dear,  come  and  kiss  me.  Ruthie,  why  what  are 
you  crying  for,  child?" 

Down  by  the  invalid's  couch  Mrs.  Carter  sank  upon  her 
knees,  folded  her  arms  around  the  startled  girl,  and  began 
to  sob  like  a  great  warm-hearted  baby,  as  she  was — God 
bless  her  ! 

After  a  little  she  lifted  her  face,  all  wet  and  smiling,  like 
a  full-blown  rose,  with  rain  trembling  on  it,  and  got  up, 
ashamed  of  her  own  goodness,  and  the  emotion  that  sprung 
out  of  it. 

"You  see  I  always  was  such  a  goose — crying  when  I 
ought  to  laugh,  and  hard  as  a  rock  when  I  ought  to  cry. 
Don't  let  anybody  know  that  you  ever  saw  me  like  this. 
But  I  tell  you,  girls,  it  isn't  every  day  that  one  can  get  so 
much  joy  out  of  a  trumpery  bracelet,  and  save  half  the 
price  too.  You  have  no  idea  how  much  money  that  old 
paper  has  saved  for  Carter.  Ell  be  bound  he's  chuckling 
over  it  yet." 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

THE   ADOPTION. 


Eva,  whose  face  had  changed  from  red  to  white,  with  a 
swift  transition  of  feeling,  came  forward  suddenly,  and 
threw  her  arms  around  Mrs.  Carter's  neck. 


THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"  Oh,  how  good  you  are !  How  I  love  you  !  Can  we  do 
anything — anything  on  earth  to  repay  all  this?"  she  cried, 
in  a  warm  outburst  of  gratitude.  '"It  seems  to  nie  that 
I        lid  fall  down  and  worship  you  !  " 

••  There  !  there!  That's  all  nonsense,  my  dear.  Just 
remember  that  there  is  only  one  thing  you  can  do,  and 
having  once  refused,  I  can  never  ask  you  again  after  this, 
not  wanting  to  buy  love." 

u  Oh,  don't  say  that,  Mrs.  Carter.  It  was  because  they 
could  oot  spare  me — because  they  were  in  such  trouble,  and 

needed  help  so  much.     Even  now " 

p  a  minute,  dear.     Does  your  heart  go  with  me?  " 

-  Fes!  yes!" 

"  Will  you  go  with  me  now?  That  is,  will  you  let  me 
arrange  this  with  your  mother.  The  people  down  yonder 
don't  want  your  help.  I  do.  My  life  in  that  grand  man- 
sion is  lonely.  I  haven't  been  brought  up  to  reading,  and 
music,  and  such  things.  I  want  some  one  to  write  my 
notes,  do  my  spelling,  and  sing  to  Carter — and  am  ready  to 
pay  fur  it.  If  you  are  willing  to  work  for  men  that  sell 
goods,  why  not  work  for  me  at  double  the  price  ?  I  don't 
mean  to  keep  you  away  from  home ;  there  needn't  be  a  day 
that  you  can't  come  here.  Besides,  I  have  an  idea  about 
Euthy.  You  shall  learn  to  drive  the  pony-carriage,  and 
take  her  out  every  morning.  I'll  have  an  elevator  put  up 
in  the  house,  and  she  shall  just  be  lifted  up  to  Herman's 
studio — in  fact  there'll  be  no  break  up  about  it.  Say  now, 
fot  all.  will  you  come?  " 
I  »h,  if  you  knew  how  I  wish  it ;  but  poor  Euthy  !" 

■  S  e  don'1  look  so  terribly  troubled,"  said  Mrs.  Carter, 
glancing  at  the  gentle  girl. 

'•  I  shall  like  the  rides  so  much,"  said  Euthy.  "  Then, 
perhaps,  I  might  see  what  the  Park  is  like." 

yon  shall,  with  plenty  of  cushions,  and  a 
gentle  hone.  There  cau  be  nothing  like  it.  There  now, 
vju  see,  Eva." 


THE      ADOPTION.  285 

E\  a  went  close  to  her  sister,  knelt  down,  and  laying  her 
cheek  against  the  pale,  tremulous  face,  whispered, 

"  Sister,  darling,  could  you  let  me  go." 

"  We  should  not  he  much  apart,"  answered  Ruth.  "  And 
she  is  so  good." 

While  the  girls  were  consulting  together,  Mrs.  Carter 
went  into  the  kitchen,  where  she  found  Mrs.  Laurence 
pressing  the  mortgage  down  with  the  poker  into  a  flaming 
bed  of  coals.  The  scarlet  light  shone  on  her  face,  giving  it 
the  glow  of  long-banished  smiles.  She  closed  the  stove  as 
Mrs.  Carter  came  up,  beaming  with  good  nature,  and  spoke 
eagerly. 

"  You  needn't  ask  me  ;  I  have  no  right  to  keep  her  from 
you.  Eva  has  been  a  good  girl,  take  her;  but  let  her  come 
home  sometimes  for  Euthy's  sake." 

After  this  there  was  a  passionate  clinging  of  arms,  warm 
kisses,  and  a  tearful  face,  looking  wistfully  through  the  car- 
riage window,  as  Mrs.  Carter  drove  away  with  her  adopted 
daughter,  for  the  whole  affair  amounted  to  that,  under  the 
guise  of  au  agreement. 

In  less  than  a  week  it  was  known  throughout  the  fashion- 
able world  that  the  wealthy  Carters  had  adopted  that  beau- 
tiful girl,  Eva  Laurence,  and  intended  to  make  her  an  heir- 
ess. It  was  also  known  that  the  whole  Laurence  family 
had  been  benefited  by  the  change — that  a  delicate,  lovely 
girl,  who  had  been  a  great  sufferer  from  childhood,  had 
developed  such  wonderful  talent  for  painting,  that  Mr.  Ross 
had  taken  her  for  a  pupil. 

This  was  all  true.  From  that  humble  cottage  Eva  had 
passed  into  a  life  so  luxurious  and  pleasant,  that  it  realized 
all  her  ideas  of  paradise.  No  more  work,  no  walking  up 
and  down  town  in  drifting  snow  or  driving  rain.  Warmth, 
beauty  and  kindness,  surrounded  her  on  every  hand.  Her 
love  of  the  beautiful  was  gratified  to  the  full.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  there  was  hardly  a  thing  on  earth  which  was  not 
given  to  her  wishes. 


286  THE      KI.IGNING      BELLE. 

•■  STes,  one." 

l'nt  she  would  not  tli ink  of  that;  Fate  had  forbidden  her 
to  lore  ;  in  giving  hei  everything  else,  that  great  first  boon 
of  womanhood  had  been  withheld.  But  she  had  in  ex- 
change that  sweet,  pure,  fatherly  affection,  which  seemed  to 
have  Imcii  taken  away  forever  when  Laurence  died.  No 
one  could  be  more  generally  kind  than  Mr.  Carter,  but  it  was 
on  the  artist  Ross  that  her  heart  rested  with  more  than 
filial  affection;  his  loving  patience,  his  tender  assiduity, 
sometimes  won  tears  of  gratitude  from  the  girl. 

Was  this  love?  Yes,  but  oh  how  different  to  that  which 
lay  buried  deep  in  her  heart  for  the  man  she  could  not 
marry. 

In  a  few  weeks  from  this  the  season  was  at  its  full,  and 
the  Carters  plunged  into  all  its  gayeties  with  a  zest  and 
brilliancy  hitherto  unknown  to  them.  To  own  and  intro- 
duce a  creature  so  lovely,  and  so  exquisitely  refined,  into 
fashionable  life,  was  a  crowning  glory  to  the  ambition  which 
had  urged  these  new  people  into  society.  They  accepted 
invitations — they  gave  parties  —  they  occupied  the  most 
prominent  box  at  the  opera,  and  had  the  glory  of  knowing 
that  their  protegee,  in  spite  of  her  humble  origin,  in  spite 
of  envy  and  persecution,  was  in  fact  the  Reigning  Belle  of 
society. 

It  would  be  false  to  say  that  Eva  did  not  feel  this  change 
in  her  life  as  a  transition  into  something  like  fairy  land. 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

IN    THE    I'AKK. 


The  prettiest  park-  phaeton  you  ever  set  eyes  on,  drove  up 
to  the  Laurence  cottage]  a  pail  of  white  ponies  with  snowy 


IN     THE      PARK.  287 

tails  that  took  the  wind  like  banners,  stopped  with  the 
docility  of  pet  kittens  before  the  gate.  An  afghan  on 
which  living  roses  seemed  to  bloom,  was  thrust  aside,  and 
out  sprang  a  young  lady,  who  ran  up  the  walk  and  entered 
the  house  without  knocking. 

"  Ruthy,  Ruthy  dear,  I  have  got  them  in  training  at  last. 
Do  look  out  of  the  window  and  see  what  darlings  they  are. 
Now  for  your  first  ride  in  the  park." 

Ruth  sat  up  on  her  couch,  thrilled  throughout  her  feeble 
frame  with  unusual  excitement. 

"Oh  Eva,  are  those  the  horses?  am  I  to  ride  in  that 
pretty  thing  ?  but  how — how  can  I  get  there  ?  " 

"Never  mind  about  that;  I  feel  strong  enough  to  carry 
you  myself.  The  truth  is,  I — I  never  was  so  happy  in  my 
life  ;  to  think,  dear,  that  they  should  give  me  all  the  pleas- 
ure of  doing  this,  for  everything  is  mine,  Ruth.  We  can 
use  it  just  when  we  please,  and  you  shall  ride  every  pleasant 
day  of  your  life." 

"And  see  how  the  country  looks.  Oh  Eva,  what  a  darl- 
ing, fairy  god-mother  you  have  been  to  us ! " 

"  Have  I  ?     Then  you  are  glad  I  went  away?  " 

"  Only  half  away,  sister.  Why  you  are  with  us  a  great 
deal  more  now,  than  while  slaving  down  in  that  store." 

"  So  I  am,  darling,  and  it  is  delicious  to  belong  to  one's- 
self.     They  love  me  too." 

"Yes,  I  should  think  so,"  answered  Ruth,  a  little  sadly. 
"  Who  could  help  it  ?  " 

"  But  we  must  not  be  talking  at  this  rate ;  the  day  is  too 
lovely.     Where  is  mother?     Oh,  here  she  comes." 

In  the  bright  exuberance  of  her  feelings,  Eva  threw 
both  arms  around  her  mother's  neck  and  kissed  her  with 
affectionate  warmth. 

"Where  are  Ruthy's  things,  mother?  she  must  be 
dressed  at  once." 

"They  are    lying    on    the    bed,  Eva;    everything   is   in 


THE      R  EIONINO     BEL  L  E. 

order,"  answered  the  old  woman,  fairly  smiling  all  over  her 
face. 

Eva  ran  into  the  bedroom  and  came  ont  with  a  saeque  of 
fli  ecy,  white  cloth,  and  a  hat  on  which  some  soft  feather  tips 
clustered  like  snow.  These  she  put  on  to  sister  Ruth  with 
her  own  hands,  saying  blithely  as  she  tied  the  hat  strings  : 

"  Yes,  Eva  had  a  little  lamb, 
Its  fleece  was  white  ;is  snow; 
And  every  where  that  Eva  went 
That,  lamb  was  sure  to  go." 

At  which  Ruth  laughed  like  a  pleased  child,  but  said  the 
bonnet  felt  so  strangely  on  her  head,  it  would  take  her  a 
little  while  to  get  used  to  it.  Then  her  curls  had  always 
wandered  about  in  such  a  lazy  fashion,  what  could  she  do 
with  them  ? 

"  Oh,  they're  all  right,"  cried  Eva,  bringing  a  little  seven 
by  nine  mirror  that  Ruth  might  look  at  her  own  sweet  face, 
framed  in  by  the  bounet,  which  she  did,  blushing  like  a  wild 
rose  ;it  the  sight  of  her  own  delicate  beauty. 

"Oh  Eva,  I  hardly  know  myself!  " 

"  Of  course  you  don't.  Come,  mother,  are  you  and  I 
strong  enough  to  carry  her  out?  I  might  have  brought 
one  of  the  men,  but  somehow  I  could  not  bear  to  have  them 
touch  her." 

The  two  women  were  about  to  lift  Ruth   between  them, 

for    the    length   of   the   flower   garden    was   more   than   she 

could  hope  to  walk,  when  Mrs.  Smith  came  through  the  gate 

followed   by  her  husband,  who  approached  the  house  with 

nl  hesitation,  which  his  wife  was  eagerly  reproving. 

"Come  along,  they  don't  hold  malice,  I  tell  you,  besides, 
they  know  thai  you  didn't  mean  it,"  she  said.  '•  No  won- 
der you  are  ashamed  of  yourself,  but  that  scamp  might 
have  imposed  on  Sampson — no,  Solomon — hisself.  So  just 
w:iil<  in.  as  if  oothiug  was  the  matter,  and  never  seem  to 
mind 


IN      THE      PARK.  289 

Smith  did  walk  in,  looking  humble  and  confused,  but  his 
reception  was  so  frank  and  cordial  that  he  found  no  diffi- 
culty in  offering  to  carry  Ruth  to  the  carriage,  which  had 
been  the  object  of  his  visit.  So  the  girl  was  taken  out  tri- 
umphantly in  the  powerful  arms  of  their  old  neighbor,  while 
the  other  females  followed  smiling,  chatting,  and  congratu- 
lating each  other,  like  a  brood  of  robins,  when  the  strong- 
est fledgling  begins  to  fly. 

Mrs.  Smith  shook  up  the  cushions  which  formed  a  sort  of 
couch  in  the  carriage,  on  which  the  gentle  girl  was  placed 
in  a  half  recumbent  position  by  Smith,  while  all  the  neigh- 
borhood looked  on  from  doors  and  windows,  wondering  what 
w^ould  happen  next  to  that  Laurence  family,  and  if  they 
had  really  made  up  with  Smith,  after  that  affair  about  the 
robbery. 

There  would  be  no  doubt  on  that  subject  after  that  dainty 
nest  of  a  carriage  drove  away,  for  Eva  shook  hands  with 
Smith  before  she  raised  her  whip  from  its  socket,  and  Mrs. 
Laurence  stood  talking  with  him  in  the  most  cordial  man- 
ner by  the  gate,  full  ten  minutes  after  it  drove  off.  One  of 
the  nearest  neighbors  heard  him  say, 

"  You  can  always  depend  on  me  to  carry  her  in  and  out, 
Mrs.  Laurence.     It  is  the  least  I  can  do." 

Then  all  the  curious  people  that  had  been  anxious  about 
the  matter,  saw  Mr.  Smith  and  Mrs.  Laurence  shake  hands 
over  the  fence,  and  they  knew  that  cordial  relations  had  been 
established  between  the  cottage  and  the  corner  grocery. 

This  pleasant  thought  perhaps  served  to  deepen  the  ex- 
quisite sense  of  enjoyment  that  pervaded  the  whole  being 
of  that  gentle  invalid,  as  she  found  herself  moving  in  the 
open  air  for  the  first  time  almost  in  her  life. 

The  easy  motion  ;  for  Eva  kept  her  ponies  down  to  a  soft 
unbroken  trot ;  calmed  her  into  a  state  of  dreamy  happi- 
ness. At  first  she  was  a  little  frightened  by  the  noise  of 
heavy  wheels  and  the  rush  of  life  all  around  her;  but  Ruth 
18 


290  THE     REIGN  IK  G     BKLLE. 

had  not  won  for  herself  such  abiding  faith  in  God's  merry 
without  putting  some  trust  in  human  strength.  She  won- 
dered  at  the  cool  dexterity  with  which  Eva  guided  her  pretty 
equipage  through  the  streets,  and  shuddered  a  little  now 
and  then,  as  a  carriage  rushed  by  them,  so  near  that  it 
Beamed  as  if  there  must  be  a  clash  of  wheels;  but  this 
soon  wore  off,  for,  with  a  graceful  sweep  and  a  swifter  trot 
the  ponies  turned  into  the  park,  and  Kuth  found  herself  in 
paradise. 

Trees  just  tinged  with  the  first  frost  of  autumn,  the  grass 
soft  and  green  as  velvet,  gleams  of  water  here  and  there, 
flowers  scattered  along  the  drive,  or  clustering  in  gorgeous 
masses  ;  above  all  a  soft  blue  sky  with  snowy  clouds  heaped 
upon  it,  drifted  to  and  fro  by  a  mild  south  wind.  Can  any- 
one doubt  that  this  was  heaven  itself  to  that  fair  and  gentle 
girl  who  had  never  in  her  whole  life  looked  upon  a  scene  of 
such  beauty  before;  indeed  had  scarcely  seen  a  tree  that 
was  not  covered  with  dust  from  a  city  street,  or  a  growing 
flower  except  the  humble  garden  plants  that  bloomed  around 
her  own  home. 

'■  Oh,  Eva,  Eva !  this  is  too  beautiful !  drive  slower ! 
drive  slower!  I  cannot  bear  to  see  all  these  heavenly  things 
pass  away,"  she  would  murmur,  catching  her  breath  with 
delight  '•Tin-  water  there;  the  water,  let  me  look  at  it ; 
lit  me  feel  the  moist  sweet  air  on  my  face." 

Eva  would  check  her  ponies  and  bend  her  smiling  eyes 
on  the  invalid  with  loving  satisfaction  whenever  she  made 
a  request  of  this  kind;  occasionally  she  would  utter  a  little 
gleeful  laugh  at  some  question  that  a  child  would  not  have 
aaked.  Sometimes  her  eyes  would  fill  with  tears,  as  she 
felt  the  touching  pathos  of  all  this  joy  springing  out  nf  In  r 
sixer's  utter  isolation,  which  she  in  her  health  and  beauty 
ireely  comprehended  before. 

■•  What  are  those  beautiful  white  creatures,  Ruthy  ?  Ah, 
indeed!    how  should  you  know?     They  are  swans,   dear; 


IN     THE     PARK.  291 

there  now,  watch  them  as  they  clear  the  water  with  their 
snow  white  bosoms.  See  them  arch  their  graceful  necks 
and  sail  off  toward  the  other  shore  scarcely  cariDg  to  make 
way  for  the  pretty  boats  that  glide  up  and  down  with  such 
sleepy  stillness.  Beautiful,  you  say,  yes,  indeed  it  is  beau- 
tiful. I  shall  never  get  so  used  to  it  that  every  visit  will 
not  give  me  new  delight." 

Ruth  did  not  answer.  Her  heart  was  too  full  of  new 
feelings.  She  drew  a  deep  breath  and  closed  her  eyes.  It 
all  seemed  like  a  dream  that  she  wanted  to  impress  on  her 
brain. 

That  moment  a  landeau  drove  by  in  which  was  a  lady 
and  gentleman.     Mrs.  Lambert  and  her  step-son,  Ivon. 

Ruth  opened  her  eyes  suddenly. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  what  made  you  start  so,  Eva  ?  " 

"Nothing,"  answered  Eva,  gathering  up  her  reins. 
"  Only  you  seem  tired." 

"No,  no,  I  am  only  happy." 

Mrs.  Lambert  had  seen  Eva  Laurence,  and  the  sight  sent 
a  swift  thrill  of  pain  through  her  bosom.  She  turned  and 
spoke  to  her  son. 

"  Ivon." 

Young  Lambert  turned  sharply  to  his  mother  ;  he  also 
had  seen  the  two  girls  in  their  little  phaeton,  and  the  sight 
brought  back  a  keen  remembrance  of  all  that  this  woman's 
pride  had  made  him  suffer. 

"  Did  you  speak,  madam  ?  " 

"You  saw  that  young  lady,  and  bowed  coldly.  I  am 
sorry  for  that." 

"  Sorry,  wh}r,  madam  ?  " 

"  Because  circumstances  are  changed,  now.  I  no  longer 
oppose  your  wish  to  marry  her." 

"  Indeed,  and  in  what  has  the  lady  changed  ?  " 

"  She  has  become  the  adopted  child  of  a  man  who,  at 
least,  holds  a  high  position  in  commercial  circles." 


202  inE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

«  And  is.  I  am  told,  engaged  to  marry  the  person  whom 
that  man  intends  to  make  his  heir." 

'•  [von,  I  do  not  believe  it !  " 

"  If  it  were  possible  for  me  to  doubt  what  is  an  admitted 
fact,  my  own  position  is  the  same." 

'•What,  have  you  ceased  to  care  for  her?"  asked  the 
lady  in  a  voice  rendered  sharp  by  intense  anxiety. 

The  young  man  answered  her  with  four  of  the  most 
mournful  words  that  ever  brought  sadness  to  a  human  heart, 

"It  is  too  late!" 


CHAPTER    LXVI. 

THE     INDIA     SHAWL. 


Eva  had  no  heart  to  enjoy  her  sister's  happiness  after 
that  one  glimpse  of  Ivon  Lambert  seated  by  the  woman  who 
had  so  cruelly  broken  up  the  sweetest  hope  of  her  life.  His 
cold  bow  and  averted  eyes  cut  her  to  the  soul,  and  she  drove 
slowly  home  with  a  chilled  and  disappointed  feeling  that 
contrasted  forcibly  with  the  generous  and  unselfish  pleasure 
of  the  morning. 

Perfect  happiness  is  always  a  hope  of  the  future.  With 
all  her  success  and  triumphs  Eva  was  haunted  by  this  one 
cause  of  discontent.  Ivon  Lambert  had  met  her  more  than 
once  in  her  social  triumphs  since  she  had  resided  with  Airs. 
Carter,  but  it  was  always  with  a  degree  of  reserve  that  chill- 
ed her  to  the  heart  and  made  success  itself  almost  worth- 
less. Indeed,  after  a  few  months  of  admiration  and  excite- 
ment which  followed  her  footsteps  at  every  turn,  society  be- 
gan to  pall  upon  her.  One  party  was  so  like  another,  there 
waa  bo  little  variety  in  the  people  she  met,  that  the  girl 
lometimea  felt  a  craving  for  the  rest  and  quiet  of  her  old 
life. 


THE      INDIA      SHAWL.  293 

At  such  times  she  would  go  back  to  the  cottage,  and  strive 
to  sink  gently  down  into  the  enjoyment  which  graced  the 
tranquil  existence  of  her  sister  Ruth,  but  hers  was  a  rest- 
lessness of  the  soul,  and  for  that  there  is  little  solace 
either  in  gaiety  or  quiet.  Hunger  of  the  heart  can  only 
be  appeased  by  that  which  it  craves. 

One  thing  seemed  strange  to  Eva;  from  the  time  she  left 
the  cottage,  Mrs.  Laurence  had  changed  completely.  There 
was  something  like  reserve,  and  even  shyness  in  her  man- 
ner when  they  met.  This  Eva  could  not  understand,  but  it 
chilled  her  a  little.  With  James  and  Ruth  she  was  always 
welcome,  and  almost  adored.  To  them  she  had  never  chang- 
ed ;  all  the  pomp  and  wealth  of  her  surroundings  only  made 
her  the  more  beautiful. 

Some  months  after  Eva  had  settled  down  in  her  new  home, 
like  a  nightingale  among  the  roses,  she  entered  a  little  re- 
ception room  off  the  hall,  and  fouud  Mrs.  Carter  in  conversa- 
tion with  a  sharp-eyed,  cringing  little  man,  who  seemed  to 
be  urging  some  request  with  great  persistence. 

"  I  have  been  so  long  looking  for  the  purchaser,  madam. 
First  I  trace  it  to  one  party,  then  to  another,  and  at  last  to 
that  dealer  who  would  not  remember  to  oblige  me.  But  I 
found  a  way  to  reach  him  and  made  an  arrangement.  He 
gave  me  the  number  of  this  house,  and  madam's  name.  I 
had  great  hopes  that  you  would  be  willing  to  part  with  the 
shawl  for  the  price  you  gave,  as  the  owner  wants  it  so  much. 
I  never,  in  all  my  experience,  saw  any  one  feel  the  loss  of  a 
pledge  so  keenlj*.  So,  as  madam  has  a  good  heart,  I  can 
see  that  by  her  face,  I  am  sure  she  will  not  drive  a  hard 
bargain  with  the  poor  man." 

Mrs.  Carter  seemed  restless  and  somewhat  annoyed  at 
this  man's  eager  pertinacity.  At  one  of  the  principal 
dealers  in  such  expensive  articles,  she  had  purchased  one  of 
those  rare  and  most  exquisite  shawls,  which  are  manu- 
factured expressly  for  eastern  potentates.     These  rich  shawls 


THK      REIGNING      BELLE. 

difficult  to  obtain,  and  precious  among  ordinary  importa- 
tions, as  diamonds  compared  with  meaner  stones.  She  knew 
that  there  was  not  another  shawl  to  compare  with  this  one 
f.T  sale  in  the  city,  and  bad  happened  to  purchase  it  at  a 
bargain.  Now  this  man,  whom  she  did  not  know,  but  who 
announced  himself  as  a  pawnbroker,  who  had  once  held  the 
Bhawl  in  pledge,  and  sold  it  among  other  forfeited  articles, 
waa  appealing  to  her,  in  a  keen  and  pathetic  way,  to  give 
it  up,  fur  the  moderate  price  she  had  paid,  because  its  former 
owner  was  driven  almost  frantic  by  the  loss  of  it. 

Mrs.  Carter,  being  a  woman,  was  touched  by  this  appeal  ; 
but  from  the  same  feminine  reason,  found  her  love  of  a  bar- 
gain, and  her  ambition  to  possess  something  more  rare  and 
beautiful  than  her  neighbors,  opposing  the  kind  impulse 
with  peculiar  force.  When  Eva  entered  the  room,  she  felt  a 
sense  of  support,  and  was  almost  ready  to  leave  the  deci- 
sion to  her,  fur  she  had  already  learned  to  depend  on  the 
young  girl  in  most  matters  of  taste. 

•'  K .  .i,  dear,  run  up  to  my  dressing-room,  and  bring  a 
shawl  you  wiil  Unci  in  my  armoire.  I  want  you  to  look  at 
it,  and  help  me  decide  about  parting  with  it." 

Eva  ran  up  stairs,  found  the  shawl,  and  came  down  with 
it  falling  in  rich  folds  across  her  arm. 

"Ah,  that  is  it,"  cried  the  pawnbroker,  eagerly  rubbing 
his  hands.  "I  should  know  the  pattern  among  ten  thous- 
and. To  think  now  that  I  should  have  known  its  value  so 
little  !     It  cuts  me  to  the  soul ! " 

Mrs.  Carter  had  taken  the  6hawl,  and  was  busy  opening 
its  marvelous  folds,  revealing  the  long  slender  palm  leaves 
in  which  the  best  tints  of  a  rainbow  were  wrought  with  the 
toil  and  art  seldom    bestowed  on  the  modern   fabrics  that 
flood  our  market. 

'•  Ah.  it  is  so  beautiful!     I  should  hate  to  part  with   it," 
said    Kva,  who  had   learned  to  estimate  a  creation  like   that 
in  her  life   behind  the  counter.      "  You  might  search  years 
at  finding  unu  like  it." 


THE      INDIA      SHAWL.  295 

"  You  hear  ? "  said  Mrs.  Carter,  looking  irresolutely  at 
the  anxious  pawnbroker."' 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  hear ;  hut  if  it  is  beautiful  to  a  stranger, 
how  much  more  so  to  the  person  who  owned  it  ?  " 

Mrs.  Carter  looked  at  Eva  with  distress  in  her  eyes,  and 
hesitation  in  her  manner. 

••  What  can  I  do  ?     It  does  seem  hard." 

Before  Eva  could  answer,  the  man  broke  in, 

'•'Besides,  madam  will  remember,  that  I  am  a  poor  man, 
and  have  spent  much  time  in  searching  for  that  shawl, 
which  time  is  a  dead  loss,  if  I  fail  to  bring  it  back  to  the 
owner,  who  is  ready  to  pay  me." 

<;  That  does  seem  hard  ! "  said  the  good  woman,  appealing 
to  Eva.  who  was  so  lost  in  admiration  of  the  shawl,  that 
the  man's  greedy  eloquence  half  escaped  her. 

u  The  owner  has  been  to  my  shop  again  and  again,  wild 
to  get  it.  At  first  he  wanted  to  have  it  back  for  a  little ; 
but  now  he  will  pay  anything.  The  last  time  he  said,  '  get 
it.  and  I  will  not  count  the  cost.  It  is  a  case  of  life  and 
death.  I  must  have  that  shawl.'  Then  I  went  to  work  in 
earnest.  This  was  an  inducement  for  one  who  toils  so  hard 
and  gets  so  little.  After  all  my  pains,  madam  will  not  be 
so  cruel  as  to  take  a  poor  man's  time  for  nothing." 

"Eva,  I  think  he  must  have  it !" 

u  Wait  a  moment.  Let  me  call  Mr.  Ross.  He  will  com- 
prehend the  claim  this  man  has  better  than  is  possible  for 
us.     He  is  in  the  study ;  I  will  find  him  in  a  minute." 

Eva  ran  up  stairs,  while  the  pawnbroker,  half-baffled  and 
wholly  anxious,  stood  eyeing  the  shawl  with  mercenary 
craving,  and  Mrs.  Carter  felt  like  a  victim. 


THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

CHAPTER  LXVII. 

THE    PAWNBROKER    GETS    HIS    PRICE. 

Directly  Mr.  Ross  came  down,  and  followed  Eva  into 
the  room. 

The  pawnbroker  stepped  back  to  the  wall,  and  uttered  an 
exclamation  full  of  trouble  and  surprise. 

''What!  The  gentleman  here!  —  here,  in  this  very 
house  !     I  cannot  understand  !  " 

Ross  turned,  his  eyes  kindled,  and  his  cheeks  flushed. 

"Here  at  last?  You  have  found  it  then  ?  The  shawl ! 
— the  shawl !  Oh,  sister,  you  have  it !  But  how  can  you 
tell  if  it  is  the  same  ?     I  must  be  assured  of  that." 

"  Why,  Ross,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Do  you  know  this 
man  ?     "What  is  my  shawl  to  you  ?  " 

"  Your  shawl ! " 

"  Yes,  brother ! " 

"And  you  got  it  of  this  man  ?" 

"It  seems  that  it  came  from  him  !  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  same  !  I  will  swear  to  it !  Oh,  sir !  the 
time  I  have  taken  to  search  it  out  is  well  worth  all  you 
promised." 

"Perhaps.  I  do  not  know  yet.  Give  me  the  shawl, 
sister ;  in  half  an  hour  I  will  return." 

Ross  was  white  in  the  face.  He  took  up  the  shawl,  and 
gazed  upon  it,  until  tears  absolutely  trembled  in  his  eyes. 
Then  he  folded  the  garment  carefully,  as  one  handles  a 
shroud,  and  went  forth,  carrying  it  in  his  hand. 

Mi-.  Laurence  was  busy  in  her  kitchen,  absolutely 
hamming  over  an  old-fashioned  love-song,  for  the  great  load 
"I  a  hard  lite  li.nl  been  lifted  from  her  shoulders,  and 
awkward  gleams  of  cheerfulness  were  begiuuiug  to  dawn  in 
DpOD  her. 


THE     PAWNBROKER'S      PRICE.  297 

All  at  once  a  man  entered  the  back  door,  and  came  toward 
her. 

"Why,  Mr.  Boss,  is  that  you?  I  didn't  hear  the  bell," 
she  exclaimed,  smoothing  down  her  apron. 

"I  did  not  ring,  Mrs.  Laurence;  I  wished  to  find  you 
alone.  Look  at  this,  and  tell  me  if  it  is  positively  the  shawl 
that  came  around  that  child,  and  that  you  put  in  pledge?" 

Mrs.  Laurence  wiped  her  moist  hands  on  a  towel,  and  un- 
folded the  shawl. 

"  Of  course  it's  the  same  shawl,  wherever  it  came  from. 
There  is  no  mistake  about  that.  1  can  swear  to  the  curl  in 
every  one  of  these  long  leaves." 

"It  is  then  absolutely  the  garment  that  came  around  the 
child  you  adopted  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  am  ready  to  swear  to  it,  if  that  is  what  you 
want." 

"No  ;  there  is  no  need  of  that." 

Again  Eoss  folded  up  the  shawl,  and  left  the  house,  pass- 
ing swiftly  through  the  yard,  and  looking  at  Ruth,  who  sat 
at  the  window,  without  a  consciousness  of  her  presence. 

Mrs.  Carter  and  Eva  were  still  in  the  reception-room. 
The  pawnbroker  had  retreated  to  the  hall,  where  he  sat  on 
one  of  the  carved  chairs,  crouching  uneasily  forward,  and 
holding  a  rusty  hat  clenched  in  his  hand.  His  eyes  were 
full  of  hungry  anxiety,  for  the  reward  which  he  had  hoped 
for  seemed  slipping  from  his  grasp.  Still  he  waited,  in 
abject  patience,  determined  to  press  his  claims  to  the  utmost. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  man  started,  and  listened 
with  the  vigilance  of  a  house-dog.  A  latch-key  turned  in 
the  street-door,  and  Mr.  Eoss  came  in.  He  stopped  on  see- 
ing the  pawnbroker  and  asked  sharply  what  he  waited  for? 
then  checked  himself,  and  muttered, 

"Ah  !  I  remember.  You  want  the  reward.  How  much 
was  it  ?  " 

The  man  started  up,  and  began  to  speak  eagerly.  But 
Eoss  lifted  his  hand. 


I  B  B      B  I    [ONI  .N  G      B  K  I.I.  E. 

"The  amount?  —  name  it.  I  a?k  nothing  more;  that 
which  I  promised  you  shall  have." 

••  Without  regard  to  the  price  paid  by  the  lady  ?  " 

••  Without  regard  to  anything.  I  am  not  disposed  to 
cavil  over  a  thing  like  this." 

The  pawnbroker  paused,  calculated,  and  looked  keenly  at 
his  victim,  sorely  tempted  to  double  the  original  sum  prom- 
ised  him.  But  there  was  something  in  the  eyes  fixed  upon 
him  which  checked  the  idea,  and  he  named  what  had  been 
his  most  exorbitant  demand. 

'•  Wait  !  " 

With  this  single  word,  Ross  went  swiftly  upstairs,  and 
came  down  again  with  a  check  in  his  hand.  The  man 
started  up,  seized  the  paper,  glanced  over  it,  and  hurried 
from  the  house,  with  a  greedy  light  in  his  eyes. 

Ross  turned  into  the  reception-room,  stood  a  moment  on 
the  threshold,  pale,  trembling,  and  with  a  look  of  wild 
yearning  in  his  eyes.    Eva,  came  toward  him,  smiling. 

"  Do  tell  us  what  makes  you  so  anxious,  Mr.  Ross " 

The  girl  broke  off  with  a  cry  of  dismay.  tor  Ross  had 
flung  his  arms  around  her,  and  was  straiuing  her  to  his 
heart  with  wild  vehemence. 

'•  My  child!  My  darling!  My  own,  own  beautiful 
child!" 

The  man  was  raining  kisses  upon  her  forehead,  which 
was  wet  with  his  tears. 

Mrs.  Carter  Btarted  up.  and  with  her  two  shaking  hands 
attempted  to  tear  the  man  and  girl  apart. 

•  Herman  !   Herman  !     Are  you  crazy  ?     And  she  under 

•  f.  under  my  care  !     Give  her  up.  I  sav  !  *' 

-till   held   the   girl  close  ;  but  lifted  his  head,   and 

looked  his  angry  Bister  in  the  face.     He  could  not  speak, 

though  hi<  tremulous  lips  mored,  and  his  eyes  were  flooded. 

The  woman's  voice  Boftened. 

••  Herman,  what  does  this  mean?" 


MISS      SPICE  R  '  S     DISMISSAL.  299 

••'It  means,  my  sister,  that  as  God  has  been  merciful,  I 
believe  this  girl  to  be  my  own  child !  " 

The  man  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  He  put  Eva's 
face  back  from  his  bosom,  and  looked  tenderly  down 
upon  it. 

"Have  you  never  felt  this,  my  darling?  Did  your  soul 
never  tell  you  the  secret  that  has  so  long  filled  mine?" 

"I  have  no  breath  to  answer,"  faltered  the  girl.  a  Your 
words  strike  me  dumb !  How  can  the  things  be  that  you 
speak  of?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell ;  yet  I  know.  Wait  a  little  while,  and 
you  shall  both  be  convinced  that  I  am  not  out  of  my  mind; 
let  the  rest  prove  as  it  will." 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

MISS    SPICER   RECEIVES    HER    DISMISSAL. 

A  newspaper  was  in  Mrs.  Lambert's  hand.  In  the 
listlessness  of  a  mind  utterly  prostrated,  she  had  taken 
little  heed  of  passing  events,  and  of  the  little  drama  which 
had  been  enacted  against  the  Laurence  family,  almost  under 
the  sanction  of  her  own  name,  was  entirely  ignorant. 

It  was  an  old  paper  which  had  been  wrapped  about  some 
parcel  at  which  the  lady  was  looking.  Just  as  she  was 
about  to  lay  it  down,  her  own  name,  with  that  of  Miss 
Spicer,  astonished  her  into  sudden  interest.  The  article  she 
read  was  an  account  of  that  trial  which  had  sent  the  Eoyce 
brothers  to  Sing  Sing. 

Mrs.  Lambert  knew  that  Eva  had  been  adopted  by  the 
Carters,  and  that  her  success  in  the  fashionable  world  was 
something  marvellous,  but  of  the  underhand  machinations 
that  led  to  it.  she  had  never  dreamed  till  now. 


800  THE      REIGNING      15  E  I.  L  E. 

Ivon  Lambert  bad  informed  himself  of  the  main  features 
nf  this  disgraceful  transaction  at  the  time,  but  never  men- 
tioned them  to  his  step-mother,  who  was  suffering,  and  so 

ill  that  no  unpleasant  thing  was  permitted  to  come  near  her. 
Sin-  knew  in  a  general  way  that  the  man  Robert  Mahone 
had  left  her  service  ;  but  under  what  circumstances,  w<.'vy 
person  admitted  into  her  presence  was  interested  in  con- 
cealing. 

Thus  it  happened  that  this  statement  in  the  paper  took 

the  proud   woman  completely  by  surprise,  and  aroused   the 

-it he  pride  in  her  nature  so  completely,  that  Ellen  Post, 

when  --he  answered   the  sharp  pull  of  her  lady's  bell,  was 

startled  by  the  vivid  fire  that  lighted  up  those  sad  features. 

"  Ellen  Post,  is  this  thing  true?" 

Mrs.  Lambert  held  the  paper  out  in  one  hand,  pointing 
to  the  report  with  the  other. 

Ellen  caught  one  glimpse  of  the  hateful  sheet,  recoiled  a 
little,  then  gave  her  head  a  toss,  and  said,  with  a  degree  of 
careless  contempt  that  did  honor  to  her  nerve  : 

"  Oh,  that  was  Miss  Spicer's  little  job.  My  name  was 
dragged  in  promiscuous.  That  about  me  is  all  lies,  from 
beginning  to  end;  but  Miss  Spicer  and  that  Mahone  was 
awful  thick  for  awhile.  She  was  always  giving  him  money, 
being  so  malicious  against  that  handsome  Laurence  girl, 
that  she  was  willing  to  plot  with  any  one  against  her.  I'm 
pretty  sure  she  teas  in  the  scrape,  because  she  once  offered 
me  anything  I'd  ask  just  to  join  in  with  them;  but,  of 
conrse,  I  never  had  a  word  for  her,  but  no.  I  want  to  marry 
that  Mahone!  The  idea!  I  hope,  inarm,  you  think  bet- 
ter of  me  than  that." 

Mra  Lambert  was  a  woman  of  the  world,  whom  airs, 
Mich  as  her  maid  put  on,  were  not  likely  to  deceive.  She 
simply  folded  the  paper,  drew  forth  her  portemonnaie,  and 
paid  Ellen   Poet  a  month's  wages  in  advance. 

••  I   cannot  give  you  a  recommendation,"  she  said,  very 


miss    spicer's    dismissal.         301 

quietlv,  "and  probably  shall  never  have  occasion  to  men- 
tion your  name.  Perhaps  you  had  better  put  on  your 
things,  and  go  at  once.  The  express  man  will  come  for 
your  trunk." 

Ellen  Post  turned  her  half-scared,  half-insolent  face  on 
her  mistress.  It  had  turned  to  a  dull  grayish-white,  and 
her  eyes  gleamed  with  gathering  malice. 

"Perhaps,  marm,  you  had  better  think  twice.  Some 
girls  are  blind  as  to  what  is  going  on  around  them,  and  can 
be  sent  off  meek  and  broken-hearted;  but  I  ain't  one  of 
that  sort.  Just  take  a  second  thought,  marm.  Tou'd  bet- 
ter, I  can  tell  you." 

"I  never  take  a  second  thought,  Ellen.  Go!  I  am 
engaged !" 

The  slender  finger  that  pointed  toward  the  door  belonged 
to  a  fragile,  but  firm  little  hand,  which  scarcely  seemed 
strong  enough  to  support  the  diamonds  that  blazed  upon  it ; 
but  a  revolver  could  not  have  more  effectually  silenced  the 
impudent  servant.  Ellen  walked  backward,  step  by  step, 
until  she  almost  fell  against  a  footman,  who  stood  in  the 
door  with  a  card  in  his  hand. 

Mrs.  Lambert  took  the  card,  giving  no  further  heed  to 
the  retreating  maid,  and  read  the  name  upon  it. 

•■  Miss  Spicer !     Tell  her  to  come  up." 

There  was  a  rustle  of  silk  flounces,  a  clatter  of  high  heels, 
as  Miss  Spicer  came  up  the  stairs.  There  was  also  a  strong 
scent  of  the  last  fashionable  perfume  left  floating  in  the 
hall,  as  she  entered  her  friend's  boudoir,  closing  the  door 
behind  her. 

Fifteen  minutes  after  this  Ellen  Post  glided  down  the 
back  stairway,  with  an  evil  look  on  her  face,  and  a  satchel 
in  her  hand. 

Then  all  was  still,  and  only  a  faint  murmur  of  voices  dis- 
turbed the  sumptuous  quiet  of  that  lady's  boudoir.  Voices, 
did  I  say  ?     Only  the  quick,  rattling  sound  of  Miss  Spicer's 


802  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

tongue  was  heard;  the  firm,  even  tones  of  Mrs.  Lambert 
never  penetrated  beyond  the  room  in  which  she  sat.  Once, 
when  tlic  door  was  open,  and  Miss  Spicer  stood  upon  the 
ermine  mat,  biting  her  lips,  and  heating  her  flounces  with 
the  end  of  her  cane  parasol,  the  clear  ringing  tones  of  that 
voice  penetrated  into  the  hall. 

"No,  .Miss  Spicer,  I  will  take  leave  of  3-ou  now;  for  this 
is  the  last  time  that  you  will  ever  be  admitted  into  a 
house  of  which  I  am  mistress." 

Miss  Spicer  turned  upon  the  mat  like  a  little  fury. 

u  Well,  madam  !  I  suppose  it  is  just  possible  to  live  with- 
out coming  into  your  house  !  Heaven  knows,  it's  been  dull 
enough  since  that  girl  cut  you  out  with  Ross,  the  painter! 
This  is  the  gratitude  one  gets  for  paying  off  your  debts. 
I'm  thankful  for  one  thing,  though!  She'll  marry  him, 
and  leave  you  to  break  your  mean  old  heart;  while  Ivon 
will  hate  }tou  forever  and  ever  for  breaking  up  his  little 
matrimonial  game.  Good-bv,  Mrs.  Lambert.  If  you  can 
stand  it,  I  ought  to,  having  nothing  very  dreadful  to  look 
back  upon,  and  plenty  of  youth,  which  you  will  never  have 
again  !  " 

As  Miss  Spicer  was  flying  down  stairs  in  her  hot  wrath, 
Ivon  Lambert  came  into  the  hall,  and  stood  aside  for  her  to 
pn^s.  She  stopped  suddenly,  and  held  out  her  hand  with  a 
hysterical  laugh. 

"There;  let's  shake  hands,  and  say  good-by.  Your 
lovely  mother  has  just  turned  me  out  of  doors;  but  see  if 
I  don't  pay  her  oil'!  If  that  fellow,  Ross,  don't  marry  your 
old  lady-love,  and  I  for  one  have  no  idea  that  he  ever 
thoughl  of  it.  1*11  marry  him  myself,  and  ride  over  the  old 
woman  rough-shod.  With  his  genius  and  my  money  we 
could  do  it  —  for  people  are  beginning  to  talk  about  her 
awfully.  I  can    tell   you  ;   something   about  the  conservatory. 

and  tainting  dead  at  the  artist'.s  feet.     Ellen   Post  knows 

all  about  it.      She's  just   been   sent  away,  and   won't  the 


miss    spicer's    dismissal.  303 

story  ring.  Of  course  I  shan't  help  it  forward.  Oh,  no ! 
she  hasn't  insulted  me  !  " 

Before  Ivon  could  even  comprehend  this  rude  speech,  the 
young  lady  had  turned  the  latch  and  door-knob  with  a  force 
that  tore  her  gloves,  and  hurried  down  the  pavement. 

Ivon,  who  had  intended  to  visit  his  mother,  went  to  her 
room,  where  he  found  her  pacing  up  and  down  the  carpet, 
flushed  with  suppressed  excitement,  and  with  unusual  fire 
in  her  eyes. 

"  My  son  ! — my  dear  son !  I  am  glad,  very  glad  that 
you  are  here.  Something,  no  matter  what,  has  disturbed 
me.  I  have  been  hard  and  selfish  with  you ;  my  own 
wretchedness  has  made  me  cruel." 

"Your  own  wretchedness,  mother!" 

"  There,  there,  Ivon  !  Do  not  question  me  ;  but  gener- 
ously accept  my  atonement,  without  explanation.  I  have 
been  verv.  verv  unhappy  of  late;  but  I  am  not  speaking  of 
myself.  You  are  dear  to  me  as  any  son  could  have  been. 
"When  I  die,  all  that  I  have  shall  be  yours,  without  restric- 
tion. From  this  day  out  the  world  shall  know  you  as  my 
heir.  A:. other  thiug,  once  more  I  say  to  you,  seek  out  that 
girl  and  marry  her,  if  you  can.  I  will  accept  her  with  all 
my  heart.  Carter  has  made  her  his  heiress — be  it  so  !  I 
make  you  my  heir.     Go,  ask  her  to  marry  you." 

'•Mother!  Mother!  how  can  I?  She  has  refused  me 
once,"  cried  the  young  man. 

'•But  that  was  after  I  had  trodden  on  her  pride,  when 
she  thought  herself  worse  than  poor.  Now  you  go  to  her 
with  my  full  cousent.  I  will  call  upon  her,  and  urge  your 
case,  if  that  is  needful.  Go,  my  boy — go  now.  I  shall  not 
be  at  rest  till  your  fate  is  settled." 

Astonished,  bewildered,  and  like  a  man  in  a  dream,  Ivon 
Lambert  went  to  his  own  room.  Was  his  step-mother  in 
her  right  mind  ?  Had  she  placed  him  in  a  condition  to 
approach  Eva  once  more,  now  that  she  was  an  heiress?     If 


804  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

so,  mercenary  motives  could  not  be  imputed  to  him.  Yes, 
yes,  there  was  yet  a  chance  of  such  happiness  as  he  had 
given  up  in  despair. 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

THE    TRUTH. 


Another  ring  brought  a  servant  to  the  front  door,  where 
a  gentleman  with  a  package  in  his  hand,  stood  waiting. 
The  man  reached  out  his  hand  for  the  parcel,  but  in  its 
place,  received  a  card,  with  directions  to  carry  it  at  once  to 
his  mistress. 

There  was  no  question  about  Mrs.  Lambert's  being  at 
home;  no  seeming  doubt  that  she  might  refuse  herself;  all 
of  which  was  strange;  but  the  servant  did  not  think  of  that 
till  long  afterward,  for  obedience  seemed  natural  to  that 
voice  of  quiet  command. 

••  My  lady  will  see  you  in  her  own  room — walk  this  way," 
said  the  man,  returning  promptly,  after  delivering  his  mes- 
sage. He  ushered  the  stranger  up  stairs  with  great  defer- 
.  and  opened  the  door  with  a  bow,  altogether  forgetting 
the  package  which  the  man  carried. 

Mrs.  Lambert  was  struggling  to  compose  herself;  but  she 
had  been  greatly  excited,  and  every  nerve  in  her  frame 
quivered.  She  tried  to  speak,  but  the  effort  only  brought 
into  her  eyes. 

!:  u  did  not  take  the  hand  held  out  to  him  with  Bach 
timid  hesitation;  but  laid  his  handle  on  a  chair,  then  turned 
rnly  agitated  face  upon  the  trembling  woman. 

"  Blizal  etb,  I  have  come  to  aab  you  a  question." 

"I  will  answer  it,  Sermanl  Then  is  nothing  you  can 
a>k  that  I  will  not  reply  to.      But  first, — do  not  misuuder- 


THE     TRUTH. 


305 


stand  me ;  I  ask  it  for — for  the  sake  of  my  step-son.  An- 
swer the  one  question  that  I  asked  you.  Is  that  girl,  I 
mean  Eva  Laurence,  anything  to  you  ?  " 

"  Anything  to  me  —  and  you  ask  this  ?  Yes,  every- 
thing!" 

"  You  love  her,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  better  than  my  own  soul." 

"But — but  you  cannot  marry  her.     It  would  be " 

The  woman's  lips  turned  deadly  white,  and  what  she 
might  have  said  died  upon  them. 

u  Marry  her !  Woman,  I  wonder  the  heart  does  not 
sicken  in  your  bosom  at  the  thought." 

"  It  does !  it  does  !  Then  you  never  thought  of  it.  I 
had  not  wronged  you  so  deeply  that  you  meditated  that 
awful  blow,  that  wicked,  wicked  crime." 

"I  never  thought  of  it,  Elizabeth!" 

The  woman  clasped  her  hands,  and  a  wild  sob  heaved  her 
bosom. 

"  Still  you  loved  her !  Ah,  me  !  it  was  only  the  impedi- 
ment !     If  I  were  dead,  now  !" 

The  woman  held  out  her  clasped  hands,  and  her  face  was 
wet  with  a  rain  of  tears.  For  the  first  time,  a  look  of 
almost  yearning  tenderness  filled  the  sad  eyes  bent  upon 
her,  and  a  touch  of  compassion  quivered  in  the  man's  voice. 

"  Sit  down,  Elizabeth.  I  have  a  few  questions  to  ask, 
and  for  once  you  and  I  must  have  truth  between  us." 

Mrs.  Lambert  dropped  to  the  sofa,  near  which  she  stood, 
and  Koss  drew  his  chair  in  front  of  it.  The  curtains  hung 
low,  and  the  light  fell  dimly  around  them,  so  dimly  that 
they  seemed  like  ghosts  questioning  each  other. 

"  Elizabeth,  when  we  first  met,  and  I  found  you  Lambert's 

widow,  there  was  too  much  of  passion  and  reproach  in  our 

interview  for  a  clear  understanding  of  events,  which  seem 

to  me  vague  and  unsatisfactory.     Quiet  yourself,  now;  be 

19 


CO'}  THE     REIGNING     BELLE. 

calm,  if  that  is  possible,  and  let  us  thoroughl}  understand 
each  other." 

The  woman  made  a  strong  effort,  and  hushed  her  sobs. 

••  When  we  married,  I  was  a  wild,  passionate  youth,  pen- 
niless, almost  friendless ;  but  I  loved  jou,  God  only  knows 
how  dearly  ! " 

••  And,  oh  heavens  !  how  I  loved  you  !  *' 

a  Had  I  been  older  or  wiser  in  this  world's  wisdom,  it 
would  have  been  an  act  of  treachery  when  I  won  you  to 
that  private  marriage  ;  but  I  was  an  enthusiast,  possessed 
of  some  genius,  and  more  wild  hopes.  Perhaps  in  the  arro- 
gance of  these  untried  feelings,  I  held  your  father's  wealth 
in  too  much  scorn.  Certain  it  is,  I  never  craved  it,  never 
wished  for  it." 

"I  know  that,  Herman;  yet  it  was  this  very  wealth  that 
drove  us  apart." 

"  I  asked  you  to  go  away,  and  share  my  fate " 

"  I  could  not :  remember  how  young  I  was.  An  only 
child,  loving  my  father,  whose  forgiveness  you  refused  to  ask 
— loving  you  better  than  my  own  life,  but  afraid  to  follow 
the  hopeless  path  you  were  resolved  to  tread.  W  hy  did 
j  .  leave  me  then  ?  Was  I  angry — was  I  unreasonable  in 
that  struggle,  so  hard  upon  a  young  girl,  pampered,  as  I  had 
.  ;  did  I  say  things  which  were  altogether  beyond  for- 
giveness .'  " 

"If  I  left  you  in  anger,  bitter  and  keen  as  it  was,  my 
'•  conquered  it,  before  I  was  half  across  the  ocean," 
said   B  B8.      "But  what  came  after?     My  letters  were  un- 
1." 

••  I  never  received  them.     Some  one,  my  father,  1  think, 

kept  them  haelc.     (_)h,  Herman!  you  will  never  know  how  I 

I  for  one  line  !  " 

re  me  your  hands.     On  your  life,  on  y< air 

honor — as  yi  (ration,  did  you   never  hear  from 

a  hue  of  my  writing  after  I  left  yon?  " 


THE     TRUTH.  307 

"  As  God  shall  be  merciful  to  me,  I  never  did  !  " 

The  woman  felt  the  two  strong  hands  that  clasped  hers 
shake  like  reeds. 

■•  And  you  thought  me  dead  ?  " 

"I  did'!  I  did!" 

"Then,  and  not  tiil  then  you  married  this  other  man  ?" 

"Oh.  Herman  !  It  was  only  my  hand  and  wealth  that  I 
gave  him.  When  love  perished  in  my  heart  I  had  only 
ambition  left." 

"Then  all  love  for  me  had  perished?  " 

"Herman!  There  never  has  been  a  time  when  the 
very  memory  of  our  love  has  not  been  dearer  to  me  than  the 
adoration  of  any  living  man." 

The  hands  which  Eoss  still  clasped  were  tightened  pain- 
fully. For  half  a  moment  he  was  silent.  When  he  did 
speak,  it  was  almost  in  a  whisper,  and  his  voice  was  hoarse. 

"Elizabeth  !     What  have  you  done  with  our  child?" 

Mrs.  Lambert  wrenched  her  hands  from  the  passionate 
grip  fastened  on  them,  and  stood  up  in  wild  agony. 

"  Our  child !  Oh,  Eather  of  heaven  !  is  there  no  mercy 
for  me  ?     Have  I  not  suffered  enough  ?  " 

The  woman  had  no  strength  to  stand.  As  grass  goes 
down  beneath  the  scythe,  her  limbs  gave  way,  and  her  face 
fell  forward  on  the  cushions  of  the  sofa. 

Eoss  bent  over  her. 

"Elizabeth!" 

"  Leave  me  !  You  have  torn  the  vulture  from  my  heart 
— let  it  bleed  to  death  ;  for,  in  a  little  while,  I,  like  my 
child,  will  be  beyond  human  reach !  God  knows  all  that  I 
have  done,  and  all  I  have  suffered." 

Eoss  knelt  down  by  the  woman,  and  laid  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder.  Her  suffering  overpowered  all  sense  of  wrong  in 
his  bosom.  The  thing  which  she  had  done  seemed  less 
hideous  when  her  grief  filled  the  room,  as  with  the  wail  of  a 
mother  bereft. 


308  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

"Our  child  is  not  dead,  Elizabeth !     I  come  to  tell  you 

b   I" 

The  woman  lifted  her  face. 

••  Not  dead  !" 

••  I  ■  t  that  awful  thought  haunt  you  no  longer.  The 
child  is  alive  Not  an  hour  ago  I  held  her  in  my  arms. 
God  spared  her  life,  and  you,  wretched  woman,  a  great 
crime." 

The  woman  shuddered. 

"  God  help  me  !    God  forgive  me  !    I  was  sorely  tempted." 


CH  AFTER  LXX. 

OUR    CHILD. 


A  moment  after  these  words  left  her  lip?.  Mrs.  Lambert 
started  up.  The  idea  that  her  child  lived  had  seized  upon 
her  with  force;  for  the  first  time,  her  face,  still  colorless, 
w;i~  radiant. 

"She  is  alive! — your  child  and  mine!  Alive!  and  you 
have  found  her  for  me  !  A  child  given  to  my  hosom — a  Bin 
lifted  from  my  soul!  Man  !  Augel !  Husband!  Let  me 
fall  down  and  worship  yon  !  " 

■  First  thank  God  that  an  awful  sin  has  been  lifted  from 
your  conscience." 

"  I  do  !  I  do!     But  the  child — where  is  she?     TVho  is 
?     Will  you  let  me  see  her — touch  her — bless  her?    Oh, 
will  you?" 

••  Sfou  have  seen  1 

"Where?     When?" 

•■   \-  my  -  iter's  house.     She  is  known  as  Eva  Laurence." 
more  the  woman  sunk  to  the  sofa  unite  and  pallid. 

•    I.  turence  was  the  policeman  you  spoke  with  just  before 


OUR     CHILD.  309 

you  turned  down  to  the  river.  He  followed  you.  He  saw 
you  leave  the  infant  upon  the  rock,  where  you  had  carried  it; 
watched  as  you  crept  away  through  the  woods ;  reluctantly, 
he  thought,  but  still  you  went,  leaving  the  child  to  its  fate." 

"  No,  no !  I  did  not.  In  less  than  an  hour,  oh  !  much 
less,  for  I  was  hardly  out  of  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  I  went 
back,  resolved  to  bear  everything,  suffer  everything,  rather 
than  part  with  it — but  the  rock  was  bare ;  the  moonlight 
lay  upon  it,  cold  and  white.  I  searched  eagerly,  but  my 
child  was  gone.  I  sought  for  it  everywhere — in  the  hol- 
lows, among  the  ferns,  in  the  water.  All  night  I  wandered 
up  and  down  on  the  shore — but  my  child  was  gone.  I  had 
left  it  wrapped  up,  warm  and  asleep.  No  human  being 
was  nigh.  The  rock  sloped  downward ;  it  had  rolled  into 
the  water !  I  thought  this — I  have  always  thought  it.  Oh 
do  not  look  on  me  with  those  searching  e}res,  Herman.  I 
was  mad,  wild — driven  to  desperation — a  child-mother  flee- 
ing that  night  from  shame  and  a  father's  wrath. 

"My  father  had  been  absent  almost  a  year.  He  had 
placed  me  in  a  school  in  New  England,  which  I  left,  as  if 
for  home,  but  hid  myself  in  New  York.  When  my  baby 
was  but  a  few  weeks  old  I  learned  that  my  father  was  com- 
ing home.  If  I  was  not  there,  he  would  search  for  me  at 
the  school,  and  learn  how  long  I  had  been  absent.  You 
had  left  me ;  I  had  not  heard  from  you.  Consider,  I  was 
so  young — all  alone,  a  wife,  a  mother — but  without  a  hus- 
band. All  this  drove  me  mad.  No  doubt  I  was  absolutely 
insane." 

Here  Mrs.  Lambert's  passionate  excitement  began  to 
exhaust  itself.  She  lifted  a  hand  to  her  forehead  and  went 
on. 

"  I  remember,  in  a  vague  way,  wandering  off  in  search 
of  a  river,  with  the  child  in  my  arms,  longing  to  hide  my- 
self and  it  in  the  water.     If  I  had  any  purpose,  it  was  to 


310  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

go  beyond  the  reach  of  my  fathers  wrath,  and  take  my  hahy 
with  me." 

Here  the  woman,  seized  with  infinite  self-pity,  began  to 

Q   and   weep. 

"I  remember  nothing,  except  that  the  black  water  fright- 
ened me.  I  think  it  was  not  for  myself,  but  the  child.  I 
was  wondering  if  it  could  be  kept  dry  and  warm  when  I  was 
asleep  down  there.  Then  I  grew  afraid  for  myself,  and  fled 
into  the  woods  to  escape  the  dull,  heavy  lapping  of  the 
water,  which  both  lured  and  repulsed  me.  I  have  told  you. 
It  was  gone  when  I  came  back,  gone  forever  and  ever;  I 
had  come  back,  clear  in  my  mind,  resolved  with  half  insane 
courage,  to  take  it  in  my  arms,  and  tell  my  father  the 
whole  truth.     But  it  was  gone.     It  was  gone ! " 

When  the  woman  ceased  speaking,  Iioss  knelt  by  her 
side,  and  heavier  sobs  than  hers  filled  the  room. 

"My  poor  girl !  My  wronged  young  wife!  God  forgive 
me  the  rashness  of  my  youth — the  injustice  of  my  man- 
hood ! " 

She  lifted  her  face,  radiant  under  the  storm  of  tears  that 
had  passed  over  it. 

"You  pity  me!  There  is  no  longer  suspicion  in  your 
eyes.  Sometimes  you  will  perhaps  think  that  I  was  not  all 
to  blame,  that  in  wresting  the  child  from  my  bosom,  God 
punished  me  enough.  Ah,  you  did  not  know  how  I  loved 
it,  how  I  pined  for  it !  How  gladly  I  would  have  taken  it 
in  my  arms  and  followed  j*ou  to  the  ends  of  the  earth!" 

•■  Elizabeth,  Elizabeth!" 

There  was  no  theatrical  outbreak  ;  but  those  two  hearts, 
that  had  been  separated  one-third  of  a  life-time,  seemed 
breaking  with  a  great  fullness  of  joy. 

"Ah,  my  Elizabeth!     There  is  something  in  life  for  us 

She  took  his  hand  between  hers,  and  kissed  it. 


OUR     CHILD.  311 

"  Oh,  Herman  !  I  never,  never  expected  to  be  so  happy 
again." 

"  But  there  is  greater  joy  than  this  in  store." 

"  I  know  !    I  know  !    Our  child  !     That  beautiful  girl.     I 
was  so  jealous  of  her,  Herman.     Only  this  very  day  did  I 

consent  that   Ivon Do  you  know  that    Ivon    loves  her 

dearly  ?  "Well,  only  an  hour  or  two  ago  I  promised  to 
make  him  my  heir  if  he  could  persuade  her  to  marry  him. 
That  was  half  because  I  pitied  his  disappointment,  and 
half  because  people  said  that  you  loved  her,"  said  the  poor 
woman  with  a  laugh,  that  reminded  Eoss  of  her  girlhood. 

"  Aud  so  I  did  from  the  very  first.  Now  I  understand 
why.     She  is  very  like  you.     That  was  what  struck  me." 

"  Was  I  ever  so  beautiful,  Herman  ?  " 

Eoss  bent  down,  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  how  you  found  all  this  out. 
We  must  have  good  proof;  a  doubt  would  kill  me  now. 
Ah,  me !  how  strange  this  happiness  seems." 
.  "  I  did  not  come  to  you,  Elizabeth,  without  proof,  though 
the  very  face  of  our  child  is  enough.  Come  here,  and  see 
if  you  remember  this  !  " 

Eoss  took  the  shawl  from  a  table,  where  it  had  been  laid 
and  shook  out  its  folds. 

Mrs.  Lambert  uttered  an  astonished  cry  and  stood  gazing 
on  it,  shrinking  back  a  little  as  one  retreats  from  the  touch 
of  a  shroud. 

"  It  was  my  mother's,"  she  said  at  last.  "  I  remember 
wrapping  the  child  in  it,  praying  her  to  pity  me  if  angels 
in  Heaven  could  feel  pity.     Oh  I  remember  it  so  well. 

"  When  our  Eva—" 

"  Our  Eva,"  whispered  Mrs.  Lambert,  clasping  her  hands 
so  softly  that  he  went  on,  without  heeding  the  pathetic  in- 
terruption. 

"  When  our  Eva  was  found  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  this 
shawl  was  wrapped  about  her.     There  was  some  coral  too." 


312  THE     REIGNING      BELLE. 

"  Pink  coral  from  Naples;  I  remember  it !  "  But  what 
did  they  do  with  my  child?  How  was  she  made  the  lovely 
creature  we  find  her  ?  " 

•  Laurence  was  a  gentleman  in  his  habits,  and  educated 
the  girl  well.  He  left  me  a  letter,  which  3-011  shall  read. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  she  is  our  child  ;  Mrs.  Laurence 
admits  it,  and  no  girl  ever  did  her  parents  more  honor." 

"And  this  policeman  brought  her  up?" 

•As  his  own  child,  with  his  own  child;  and  no  two 
young  ladies  could  possess  more  refinement." 

'■  And  I  could  look  down  upon  them  with  scorn." 

"  You  did  not  know  them.     But  now  ?  " 

u  Now  I  have  but  one  wish  ;  for — for  you  have  forgiven 
me,  Herman  ?" 

Mrs.  Lambert  held  out  both  her  hands ;  the  passionate 
tenderness  of  girlhood  swept  over  her  face,  as  it  fell  upon 
his  bosom,  drawn  there  by  the  strong  arms  that  she  knew 
would  enfold  her  evermore. 

"Now  let  me  see  my  child,  and  die  of  happiness,"  she 
said,  lifting  her  radiant  face  from  his  bosom. 

"  In  less  than  an  hour  Eva  shall  be  with  you,"  said  Ross. 

"An  hour!  how  long  it  will  seem,  Herman." 

"  The  happy  can  afford  to  wait,"  he  answered.  "  Now  I 
will  go  and  tell  them  everything." 

"  Must  this  be  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Lambert,  with  a  touch  of 
shrinking  pride. 

'•  Five  persons  imist  know  the  truth,  Elizabeth.     Beyond 
them,  <>ur  anhappy  past  need  never  be  known." 
bid  those  five?" 

'•  My  sister,  her  husband,  Euth  Laurence,  Ivon,  and  our 
child." 

'•  1'.'-  it  bo.  We  can  trust  them;  for  all  have  been  kinder 
to  her  than  her  own  mother." 

'■  !••  yond  them  we  will  have  no  explanations.    There  must 
public  wedding,  and  that  will  silence  all  questions." 


A      DOUBLE     "WEDDING.  313 

A  soft,  rosy  color  came  into  the  woman's  face,  and  for  a 
moment  her  eyes  sunk. 

"When  the  young  people  are  married,  Eva  will  be  your 
daughter,  of  course.  Chance  has  arranged  everything  for 
us,"  Ross  went  on. 

"  But  she  has  refused  Ivon." 

"  I  tell  you  she  loves  him." 

"  I  am  sure  that  he  loves  her." 

"And  where  love  is,  what  power  can  keep  two  souls 
apart !  I  tell  you,  Elizabeth,  it  will  be  a  double  wedding, 
and  after  that  a  double  household." 

"  Go — go  and  bring  Eva !  " 


CHAPTER    LXXI. 

A     DOUBLE    WEDDING. 


Mrs.  Carter  and  Eva  still  remained  in  the  reception- 
room.  The  passionate  words  of  Herman  Ross  had  filled 
them  with  amazement  if  not  alarm.  They  could  not 
believe  the  thing  he  had  so  wildly  stated. 

"If  it  should  be  now,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  "if  you  really 
are  his  daughter  and  my  niece,  I  shall  just  believe  a  special 
Providence  sent  you  under  this  roof.  Only  to  think  how  I 
took  to  you  from  the  very  first." 

"  I  cannot  understand,  it  all  seems  so  unreal.  Not 
Ruthy's  sister — not  related  to  little  James.  It  is  impossi- 
ble ! "  answered  Eva,  in  sad  perplexity.  "  Still  there  was 
something  from  the  first  that  made  me  turn  to  him.  Love, 
yet  not  love;  such  tenderness  as  brings  tears  into  one's  eyes. 
Is  that  the  way  a  child  feels  towards  its  father  ?  " 

"  Well,  as  I  never  had  a  father  since  I  was  six  years  old," 
answered  Mrs.  Carter,  "  perhaps  you'd  better  ask  some  one 


814  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

.  l'ut  that  ia  a  good  deal  like  my  own   feelings  toward 
Herman;  for  I  just  worship  him." 

•■  When  will  he  come  hack?  I  am  so  restless,"  said  Eva 
going  to  the  window. 

am  I.  It's  of  no  use  to  attempt  anything  ;  my  heart 
jumps  into  my  mouth  at  every  noise.  What  if  it  should 
prove  true  ?     Come  and  kiss  me,  child  !  n 

Eva  threw  her  arms  around  the  good  womam's  neck,  but 
she  was  so  nervously  restless  that  her  very  kisses  were  trem- 
ulous. 

"  I  am  so  anxious,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  He  is  coming  !  that  is  his  step  !  " 

It  was  Herman  Ross,  walking  up  to  the  door  with  the 
light  tread  of  a  boy.  His  face  was  radiant  when  he  entered 
the  room.  He  advanced  to  Eva  and  took  her  tenderly  in 
his  arms. 

"  It  is  true,  my  child;  my  own,  own  child  !  " 

Eva  looked  at  him  wonderingly;  the  whole  thing  seemed 
so  marvellous,  that  she  could  not  at  once  return  his  caress. 

"  But  how  ?  tell  me  more  !  "  she  faltered. 

Ross  sat  down  on  the  couch,  and  drew  Eva  to  his  side. 
Mrs.  Carter  moved  her  chair  closer. 

He  told  them  all,  with  the  brief  passionate  eloquence 
which  perfect  joy  inspires.  Before  half  his  narrative  was 
over,  Eva  had  crept  into  his  arms,  and  Mrs.  Carter  was 
Bobbing  like  a  child. 

"  Ami  this  lady  is  my  own  mother?" 

Ross  leaned  forward  and  kissed  Eva's  forehead. 

"  STes,  Eva,  your  unhappy,  bereaved  mother." 

•   Poor  lady!" 

'•  She  is  waiting  for  you  now." 

Eva  arose  agitated  and  trembling. 

'•1  am  ready;  take  me  to  my  mother.  Oh!  how 
strangely  the  word  seems;  but  my  mother  that  was!  how 
can  I  give  her  up  I" 


A      DOUBLE     WEDDING. 


315 


"  There  is  nothing  to  give  up,  Eva ;  but  everything  to 
accept." 

"You  —  you  have  always  been  my  father!"  cried  the 
girl  with  a  sudden  outburst  of  affection,  "from  the  first 
moment  I  have  loved  you." 

"  And  you  will  love  me  ?  " 

"  Dearly,  papa." 

The  girl  gave  a  little  joyous  laugh. 

"Oh,  what  a  dear,  dear  word,  papa,  papa  ! " 

"  But  there  is  one  dearer  yet,  Eva." 

"  Yes,  by  and  by  I  shall  get  used  to  it ;  but  will  she  let 
me,  I  hardly  dare." 

"  My  sweet  child,  how  little  you  know  her.  She  is  count- 
ing every  moment  till  you  come.  I  left  her  crying  like  a 
child." 

"  Poor  lady,  poor  mamma." 

The  girl's  face  brightened  all  over,  as  the  word  fell  from 
her  lips.  She  looked  shyly  at  Ross,  and  whispered  it  again 
and  again  as  if  to  familiarize  herself  with  the  sweet  sound. 
He  smiled  and  passed  his  hand  over  her  head. 

"  Come  now,  your  mother  is  waiting." 

Eva  left  the  room  and  then  Eoss  saw  that  his  sister  was 
crying  bitterly. 

"  What  is  the  matter  !  Why  are  you  distressed  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Oh !  I  loved  her  so !  She  was  like  my  own  child. 
Now — now  that  other  woman  will  take  her  from  me." 

"  That  she  never  will !  Elizabeth  understands  too  well 
all  that  you  have  done  for  her  child." 

"  After  all,"  said  the  kind  woman,  brightening  up  like 
a  child,  "she  is  my  niece,  and  that  is  something." 

"  Besides,  you  forget  that  Elizabeth  is  your  sister,"  said 
Ross. 

"  Mrs.  Lambert  my  sister — mine !  How  strange  it  seems 
— such  a  beautiful,  lovely  lady." 


316  THE      REIGNING      BELLE. 

re  Eva  came  down  stair.-,  Mrs.  Carter  had  begun  to 
console  herself;  after  all,  it  was  something  to  liave  a  niece 
like  Eva.  anil  a  sister-in-law  who  had  been  for  years  a 
leader  in  society. 

Mrs.  Lambert  was  indeed  waiting  with  passionate  im- 
patience for  a  sight  of  her  child.  The  flood  of  her  own 
happiness  fairly  transfigured  the  woman.  Her  pride  was 
all  swept  away;  the  calm  force  of  her  character  had  dis- 
appeared with  the  secret  that  she  had  guarded  so  well. 
Siic  walked  the  room;  she  flung  herself  on  the  couch  and 
wept  the  sweetest  tears  that  had  ever  visited  her  eyes. 
She  went  to  the  window  and  looked  longingly  out. 

Would  they  never  come?  surely,  surely  more  than  aa 
hour  had  passed. 

A  dozen  times  she  walked  to  the  window ;  a  dozen  times 
she  seated  herself,  resolved  to  wait  in  patience.  W  Inn 
she  heard  footsteps  coming,  a  sweet  faintuess  crept  over  her, 
and  reaching  forth  her  arms,  she  saw  everj'thing  in  a  mist. 
Then  the  kisses  rained  on  her  face,  seemed  coming  through 
a  dream ;  but  above  it  all  came  that  one  sweet  word  that 
she  had  so  longed  for  when  that  girl  was  a  helpless  babe, 
lost  to  her  as  she  thought,  forever. 

"  Mother,  mother!" 

Two  weddings  astonished  society  within  a  month  of  that 
day.  Ross  the  artist,  and  Mrs.  Lambert  were  married  on 
the  same  morning  with  Ivon  Lambert  and  Eva;  of  course 
the  fashionable  world  was  thrown  into  a  state  of  excitement; 
but  Mrs.  Lambert  had  controlled  public  opinion  too  long 
fur  any  tear  of  losing  social  power  under  any  circumstances. 

M  re.  Carter  was  very  lonely  and  desolate  in  her  grandeur 
for  some  weeks,  hut  it  was  not  long  before  Ruth  Laurence 
was  almost  as  much  at  the  house  and  as  welcome  there  as 
Eva  had  been.  The  park  carriage  was  by  no  means  given 
up,  though  it  frequently  happened  that  young  James  hand- 
led the  white  ponies  in  place  of  sister  Eva,  and  sometimes 


A     DOUBLE      WEDDING.  317 

Mrs.  Laurence  was  seen  by  his  side,  sitting  prim,  upright 
and  vigilant,  as  if  she  fancied  that  some  one  might  suspect 
her  of  putting  on  airs,  because  of  the  great  prosperity  that 
had  settled  on  her  fainily. 

It  often  came  to  pass  in  the  after  time,  that  Mrs.  Carter 
took  her  tea-dinner  in  Mrs.  Smith's  upper  rooms  without 
much  household  scandal;  but  when  her  carriage  began  to 
stop  at  the  corner  grocery  on  its  way  to  or  from  the  cottage, 
the  cup  of  Mr.  Battles'  indignation  was  full,  and  he  loftily 
gave  warning. 

After  all,  that  diamond  bracelet  came  from  Ball  &  Black's 
in  full  splendor,  and  lying  on  its  purple  satin  cushions, 
was  among  the  most  conspicuous  of  Eva  Lambert's  bridal 
presents. 


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The  Lost  Beauty.     By  a  Noted  Lady  of  the  Spanish  Court 1  50 

Saratoga.     An  Indian  Tale  of  Frontier  Life.  A  true  Story  of  17s7,..  1  50 

Married  at  Last     A  Love  Story.     By  Annie  Thomas 1  50 

l       Quaker  Soldier.    \  Revolutionary  Romance.  By  Judge  Jones,....  1  50 

The  Man  of  the  World.     An  Autobiography.     By  William  Nortl 1  50 

Tin-  Qneen'i  Favorite  ;   or.  The  Price  of  a  Crown.     A  Love  Story....  1  50 

Rolf  Love;  or,  The  Afternoon  of  Single  and  Married  Life 1  60 

Cora  Belmont;  or,  The  Sincere  Lover.  A  True  Btory  of  the  Heart,.  1  50 
The  Lover's  Trial* ;  or  Days  before  1776.  By  Mr*.  Mary  A.  Denison,  1  50 
I'     b  I.  ■    in  w     '   ngl  in.     \  Life  Picture.    Bv  Mrs.  N.  P.  Lasselle,  1  50 

1    ■   Beautiful  W  i      ore.     l'\  Mrs.  Percy  B.  SbeTlej 1  60 

BvJ.  B.J  tes,  author  of  the  "  Rival  Belles,"...  1  60 
I  Matchmaker.  A  Storv  ,,f  High  Life.  Bv  Beatrice  Reynold*,..  1  60 
1       '  pret;  or,  tho  C  ant  De  Mara.     By  William  Godwin,  1  60 

''       '  By  Mrs.  OUphant  anthor  of  "Margaret  Maitland,"  1  M 

1       ' '    •  •  n  i      tor.     By  Henry  William  Herbert.    A  Roman  Story,  1  60 
ir.'  each  in  paper  oover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 


t.',~  Rooks    sent,    postago   paid,  on   Receipt  of  tho  Retail  Price,  by 
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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.    3 


WORKS  BY  THE  VERY  BEST  AUTHORS. 

The   following   boohs  arc  each  issued  in  one    large  duodecimo  volume,  in 
paper  cover,  at  $1.5  '  each,  or  each  one  is  bound  in  cloth,  at  $1.75  each. 
The  Dead  Secret.    By  Wilkie  Collins,  author  of  "  The  Crossed  Path,"  1  50 
Memoirs  of  Vidocq,  the  French  Detective.     His  Life  and  Adventures,  1  50 

The  Crossed  Path;  or  Basil.     By  Wilkie  Collins, 1   50 

Indiana.  A  Love  Story.  By  George  Sand,  author  of  "  Consuelo,"  1  50 
Tao  Belle  of  Washington.  With  her  Portrait.   By  Mrs.  N.  P.  Lasselle,  1  50 

The  Bohemians  of  London.     By  Edward  M.  Whitty, 1   50 

The  Rival  Uelles;  or,  Life  in  Washington.     By  J.  B.  Jones, 1   50 

Th3  Devoted  Bride.  A  Story  of  the  Heart.  By  St.  George  Tucker,  1  50 
Live  and  Duty.  By  Mrs.  Hubback,  author  of  "  May  and  December,"  1  50 
Wild  Spurts  and  Adventures  in  Africa.  By  Major  W.  C.  Harris,  1  50 
Courtship  and  Matrimony.     By  Robert  Morris.     With  a  Portrait,...   1  50 

The  Jealous  Husband.     By  Annette  Marie  Maillard, 1  50 

The  Refugee.      By  Herman   Melville,  author  of  "  Omoo,"  "  Typee,"  1   50 

The  Life,  Writings,  Lectures,  and  Marriages  of  Fanny  Fern 1  50 

Tha  Life  and  Lectures  of  Lola,  Montez,  with  her  portrait,  on  steel,...  1  50 

Wil  1  Southern  Scenes.     By  author  of  "'  Wild  Western   Scenes," 1  50 

Gurrer  Lyle;  or,  the  Autobiography  of  an  Actress.  By  Louise  Reeder.  1  50 
Coal,  C  >al  Oil,  and  all  other  Minerals  in  the  Earth.     By  Eli  Bowen,  1  50 

The  Cabin  and  Parlor.     By  J-  Thornton  Randolph.     Illustrated, 1  50 

Je  dousy.     By  George  Sand,  author  of  "  Consuelo,"  "  Indiana,"  etc.  1   50 

The  Little  Beauty.     ALn-oStory.     By  Mrs.  Grey 1  50 

The  Adopted  Heir.     A  Love  Story.     By  Miss  Pardoe, 1  50 

Secession,  Coercion,  and  Civil  War.     By  J.  B.  Jones, 1  50 

The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo.     By  Alexander  Dumas.     Illustrated,...  1  50 

Camille;  or,  the  Fate  of  a  Coquette.     By  Alexander  Dumas, I  50 

Six  Nights  with  the  Washiugtonians.     By  T.  S.  Arthur 1  50 

Lizzie  Glenn  ;  or,  the  Trials  of  a  Seamstress.     By  T.  S.  Arthur 1  50 

Lady  Maud;  or,  the  Wonder  of  Kingswood  Chase.    By  Pierce  Egan,  1  50 

Wilfred  Montressor;   or,  High  Life  in  New  York.     Illustrated, 1  50 

The  Oil  Stone  Mansion.  By  C.  J.  Peterson,  author  "Kate  Aylesford,"  1  50 
Kate  Aylesford.  By  Chas.  J.  Peterson,  author  "  Old  Stone  Mansion,".  1  50 

Lorritner  Littlegood,  by  author  "  Hary  Coverdale's  Courtship," 1  50 

The  Red  Court  Farm.  By  Mrs.  Henry  Wood,  author  of  "East  Lynne,"  1  50 
Mildred  Arkell.  By  Mrs.  Henry  Wood,  author  of  "  Red  Court  Farm,"  1  50 

The  E  irl's  Secret.     A  Love  Story.     By  Miss   Pardoe, 150 

The  Adopted  Heir.  By  Miss  Pardoe,  author  of  "The  Earl's  Secret,"  1  50 

Lord  Montague's  Pane.     By  G.  P.  R.  James, 1  50 

The  Cavalier.  By  G.  P.  R.James,  author  of  "Lord  Montagu's  Page,"  1  50 
Cousin  Harry.  By  Mrs.  Grey,  author  of  "The  Gambler's  Wife,"  etc.  1  50 

The  Conscript.      A  Tale  of  War.     By  Alexander  Dumas,   1  50 

Tie  Tower  of  London.  By  W.  Harrison  Ainsworth.  Illustrated,...  1  50 
Shoulder  Straps.  By  Henry  Morford,  author  of  "  Days  of  Shoddy,"  1  50 
D  iys  of  Shoddy.  By  Henry  Morford,  author  of  "  Shoulder  Straps,"  1  50 
The  Coward.     By  Henry  Morford,  author  of  "  Days  of  Shoddy."...  1  50 

The  above  books  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 

The  Wandering  Jew.     By  Eugene  Sue.     Full  of  Illustrations, 1  50 

Mysteries  of  Paris;  and  its  Sequel,  Gerolstein.     By  Eugene  Sue 1  50 

Martin,  the  Foundling.     By  Eugene   Sue.     Fall  of  Illustrations, 1  50 

Ten  Thousand  a  Year.     By  Samuel  C.  Warren.     With  Illustrations,  1  £0 

Washington  and  His  Generals.     By  Gcorg«  Lippnrd 1  50 

The  Quaker  City;  or,  the  Monks  of  Monk  Hall.     By  George  Lippard,  1   50 

Blanche  of  Brandywinp.     By  George   L'ppard, 1   50 

Paul  Ardenheim  ;   the  Monk  of  Wissahiekon.     By  George  Lippard..  1   50 

The  above  books  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  S2.00  each. 

4  9  •  *  > 

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00 


1  75 


4  T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 
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The  Last  Athenian.    From  the  Swedish  of  Victor  Kydberg.      Highly 

by  Fredrika  Breiner.     Paper  $1.51),  or  in  cloth, $2  00 

I  i;\  Elocution  and  Reader.    Enlarged.    Ly  Andrew  Comstock 

i  Philip  Lawrenoe.     With  236  Illustrations.    Hall  morocco 2  00 

hart.     Every  School  should  have  b  copy  of  U....5  00 

the  Atlantic.      Letters  from  France,  Switzerland,  Germany, 

and  Bnglaud.     By  <-•  H.  Haeseler,  M.D.    Boundin  cloth,... 

Colonel  John  W.  Forney's  Letters  lroin  Europe.     Bound  in  cloth,... 

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i  lies'  Complete  Guide  to  Needlework  nnd  Embroidery.    With 

113  illustrations.     By  Miss  Lambert.     Cloth,  full  gilt  back 1  75 

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Major  Jones'  Court-hip  and   Travels.     With   21    Illustrations, 1  75 

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P  Doetor's  Adventures  in  the  South-West.     14  Illustrations,...   1    75 

Col.  Thorpe's  Scenes  in  Arkansaw.     With  16  Illustrations. 1  75 

The  Big  Bear's  Adventures  and  Travels.    With  18   Illustrations 1  75 

Otigh  Life  in  New  Fork,  by  Jonathan    Slick.     With  Illustrations,....  1  75 

Ualiburton's  Yankee  Stories.      Illustrated 1   75 

Harry  Corerdale's  Courtship  and  .Marriage.     Illustrated 1    75 

Piney  Woi  W  Cavern;  or,  Sam   Slick   in  Texas.     Illustrated 1  75 

the  Clockmaker.  By  Judge  Haliburton.  Illustrated,...  1  75 
Humors  ol   Pnlconbridge.     By  J.  F.  Kelley.     With   Illustrations,...   1   75 

rn  Chivalry.     By  Judge   Breckenridge.     Two  vols.,  each 1  75 

Neal's  Charcoal  Sketches.      By  Joseph   ('.  Neal.     21  Illustrations,...  2  50 


ALEXANDER  DUMAS'  WORKS. 


of  M  aite  Cristo 1  50 

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La  Valliore I   00 

of  a  Marquis 1   (it) 

f  Meridor 1   00 

I  •  uardf ii 75 

j  fears  After 75 

mne 75 

]      Consci                          '..  nr,  ] 
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id   I'  in  tea 75 

de  Chambure 75 

The  II                             7  "i 

1 75 

Prance 75 

I  •  ibel  of  B  ivai  i  i 7 .• 

■  0  |    I 


Memoirs  of  a  Physician 1 

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Six  Years  Later 1 

C  luntess  of  Cbarney 1 

Andree  de  Ta\  ern<  j l 

.  valjer .'.. 1 

Forty-five  Guardsmen 

'I  he  Iron   Hand 

I  '.iiniile,    "  The  t 'aim  till    I 

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Man  n  ith  F'n  e  Wives 

I  u  111  Lien  tens  n  I  - 

Annette,  Lady  of  the  Pearls 

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["he  M  irriage  Verdict 

n   Bn  tl  i  rs 

50  |  Buried   Mive 


I  n 
in 
00 

no 
I II 
III 

75 
75 
50 

75 
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50 
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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.   5 


CHARLES     DICKENS'     WORKS. 

«»-GREAT    REDUCTION    IN    THEIR    PRICES.  =£3 


PEOPLE'S  DUODECIMO  EDITION.     ILLUSTRATED. 
Reduced  in  price  from  $2.50  to  $1.50  a  volume. 
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ail  can   read,   containing  One  Hundred  and  Eighty  Illustration g  on  tinted 
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Oliver  Twist, Cloth,  1.50 

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A  Tale  of  Two  Cities,. ...Cloth,  1.50 


Little  Dorrit, Cloth,  $1.50 

Dombey  and  Sou, Cloth,  1.50 

Christmas  Stories, Cloth,  1.50 

Sketches  by"Boz/' Cloth,  1.50 

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Martin  Chuzzlewit, Cloth,  1.50 

Old  Curiosity  Shop, Cloth,  1.50 

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American  Notes;  and  The  Uncommercial  Traveler, Cloth,    1.50 

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Price  of  a  set,  in  Black  cloth,  in  nineteen  volumes $28.00 

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lowing books  are  e«ch  contained  in  two  volumes. 


I'.leak  House Cloth,  $3.00 

Sketches  by  "  Boz," Cloth, 

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3.00 
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Christinas  Stories, Cloth,     3.00 

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e    T  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


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ILLUSTRATED  OCTAVO  EDITION. 
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Cloth,     1.75    Barnabv  Rudse Cloth, 


1 

'  loth,  1.75 

tations Cloth,  1.75 

Lamplighter's  Story Cloth,  1.75 

L'wist Cloth,  1.75 

■  I  mse CI  ith,  1.75 

D  »rrit Cloth,  1.75 

.    in  i  S  >i Cloth,  1.75 

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; 

Martin  Chuzzlewil 

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ies,„. Cloth, 
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Christmas  Stories 28 

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Wreck         i    I       len  Mary 

T.'o  Tiddler's  Ground 

Our  Mutual    Friend 

House 

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35 

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iriosity  Shop 25 

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in   \  itos 25 

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!  25 

5  •  from  the  Sen 25 

Barnaby  Radge 25 

•■  Bos," 25 

Mn.   I, inn  !  an  1   .Mrs.   1 

M     •  ■>•  Junction  :md   I»r.  Mfl  I 


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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.  7 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  BEST  WORKS. 


Cbarlea  O'Malley, 75 

Harry  Lorrequer, 76 

Jack  H  in  ton,  the  Guardsman,...  75 

Tuiu  Burke  of  Ours, 75 


Knight  of  Gwynne, 75 

Arthur  O'Leary, 75 

Con  Cregan 75 

Davenport  Dunn, 75 


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Horace  Templeton, 75  |  Kate  O'Donoghue, 75 

EMERSON  BENNETT'S  WORKS. 


Bride  of  the  Wilderness, 1  50 

Ellen  Norbury, 1  50 

The  Forged  Will, 1  50 

Kate  Clarendon 1  50 


The  Border  Hover, 1   50 

Clara  Moreland, 1  50 

Viola;    or   Adventures    in    the 

Far  South-West, 1   50 

The  above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 
The  Heiress  of  Bellefonte,  and  I  Pioneer's    Daughter  and    the 

Walde-Warren, 75  I      Unknown  Countess, 75 

WILKIE  COLLINS'  BEST  WORKS. 

The  Crossed  Path,  or  Basil,....   1   50  |  The  Dead  Secret.     12mo 

The  above  are  each  in  paper  cover,  or  in  cloth,  price  $1.75  each. 

Hide  find  Seek, 75    Sights  a-Foot, 

After  Dark, 75    The  Stolen  Mask, 

The  Queen's  Revenge, 75    The  Yellow  Mask, 

Mad  Monkton, 50  '  Sister  Rose, 


1  50 

50 
25 
25 
25 


MISS  PARDOE'S  WORKS. 


The  Rival  Beauties, 

Romance  of  the  Harem,. 


75 


Confessions  of  a  Pretty  Woman,       75 

The  Wife's  Trials, 75 

The  Jealous  Wife, 50 

The  five  above  books  are  also  bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  for  $4.00. 

The  Adopted  Heir.     One  volume,  paper,  $1.50 ;  or  in  cloth, $1   75 

The  Earl's  Secret.     One  volume,  paper,  $1.50 ;  or  in  cloth,  1  75 

MRS.  HENRY  WOOD'S  BOOKS. 


George  Canterbury's  Will, 1 

Roland  Yorke, 1 

The  Channings 1 

Red  Court  Farm 1 

EMer's  Folly 1 

St.  Martin's  Eve 1 

Mildred  Arkcll 1 

Shadow  of  Ashlydyat 1 

Above  are  each  in  paper  cover 
The  Mystery, 

Above  are  each  in  paper  cover 

Orville  College 

The  Run  awn  v  Match, 

The   Lost  Will 

The  Haunted  Tower, 


50    Oswald  Cray, 1  50 

50    Vomer's  Pride, 1  50 

50    Lord  Oakburn's  Daughters  ;  or, 

50        the  Earl's  Heirs, 1  50 

50    Squire     Trevlyn's    Heir  ;     or, 

50        Treylyn  Hold 1  50 

50    The    Castle's   Heir;    or,   Lady 

50        Adelaide's  Oatl 1  50 

or  each  one  in  cloth,  for  $1.75  each. 

75  ]  A  Life's  Secret, 50 

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II  ui-  Br<  ,iia.inii  a  i  ml   I  own,  with  other  Ballads.     By  C.  (i.  Li 

\\      iter  and  ll.iyn  '-  Speeches  in  Reply  to  Colonel  Foote, 

The  Brigand;  or,  the  Demon  of  the  North.     By  Vicior  Hugo, 


: ,  ■.  Where  is  Utopia '! 

T  i  ■  B  ii  litti  of  the  Prairie,... 

Tom  Racquet 

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■I,  by  Croly 

Corinne;  '>r,  Italy 

I  isgrave..... 



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i  II  i,l.   By  .Mark  Lemon, 


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i    ■    Coquette 

Thackeray's  lrUh  Sketch  Book, 

Whitehall, 

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Mysteries  of*  Three  Cities 

Genevra.     By  Miss  Fairfield,.. 

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1        -;  of  a  Convent,...  25   The   Vbhey  of  Inniumoyle 

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Charles  Hansford 25    Rifle  Shots 


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T.  A.  TROLLOPE'S  WORKS 

Each  work  is  complete  in  one  large  duodecimo  volume. 

Price  of  each,  $1.75  in  Cloth ;  or,   $1.50  each,  in  Paper  Cover 

LEONORA  CASALONI;  OR,  THE  MARRIAGE  SECRET. 
"The  pictures  of  life  in  Italy,  as  drawn  by  Trollope,  are  as  charming 
as  the}- are  true.  In  '  Leonora  Casaloni.'  the  description  of  the  basilica 
of  St.  John  of  Lateran.  at  Rome,  of  the  hills  on  the  sea  coast  where 
Leonora  lived,  and  of  the  wild  passes  of  the  Apennines  through  which 
Ceasare  traveled,  are  among  the  most  vivid  things  of  their  kind  in  fiction. 
The  character  of  Gobbo  is  an  original  one,  and  the  poor  fellow  strangely 
enlists  our  sympathies.  The  interest  turns  upon  the  marriage-secret  of  a 
great  Roman  family,  which  is  adroitly  kept  in  mystery  until  the  conclud- 
ing pages.  This  is  a  story  of  striking  merit — produced  in  the  maturity 
of  its  gifted  author's  mind." — R.  Shelton  Mackenzie. 

GEMMA.     A   TALE  OF  LOVE  AND  JEALOUSY. 

"  Mr.  T.  A.  Trollope  gives  us  in  'Gemma,'  one  of  his  novels  of  Italian 
private  life  of  the  present  day.  The  descriptions  of  the  city  of  Siena — of 
the  country  around — of  Savona.  the  desolate  town  of  Maremma — are  won- 
derfully graphic,  and  bear  witness  to  their  having  been  done  from  the  life 
by  one  who  has  lived  in  the  places  and  loved  them.  The  scene  in  the  great 
church  of  Savona  is  brought  vividly  before  the  reader,  who  will  not  easily 
shake  off  the  impression  it  produces.  We  would  recommend  the  reader  to 
learn  for  himself  the  unravelling  of  the  plot  and  the  final  result.  The 
story  will  well  repay  perusal,  and  the  interest  increases  as  the  story  pro- 
c  e  Is." — Low/on  Atheuaum. 

BEPPO;  THE  CONSCRIPT. 

"  In  '  Beppo  the  Conscript'  we  are  transported  to  '  the  narrow  strip  of 
territory  shut  in  between  the  Apennines  and  the  Adriatic,  to  the  south  of 
Bologna  and  the  north  of  Ancona,'  where  European  civilization  once  cen- 
tre 1.  Tasso  sung  and  raved,  and  the  Dukes  of  Urbino  flourished.  But 
not  to  revive  their  past  glories  are  we  beguiled  to  the  decayed  old  city 
of  Fano.  and  the  umbrageous  valleys  that  nestle  amid  the  surrounding 
hills;  it  is  the  normal,  primitive,  agricultural  life  and  economy  of  the 
region,  and  the  late  political  and  social  condition  of  the  inhabitants, 
which  this  story  illustrates.  The  means  and  methods  of  rural  toil. — 
the  'wine,  corn,  and  oil'  of  Scriptural  and  Yirgilian  times ;  the  avarice, 
the  prido,  the  love,  the  industry,  and  the  superstition  of  the  Contadini  of 
the  Romagna  :  a  household  of  prosperous  rustics,  their  ways  and  traits  ; 
and  the  subtle  and  prevailing  agency  of  priestcraft  in  its  secret  opposi- 
tion to  the  new  and  liberal  Italian  government, — are  all  exhibited  with 
a  quiet  zest  and  a  graphic  fidelity  which  takes  us  into  the  h^art  of  the 
people,  and  the  arcana,  as  well  as  the  spectacle  of  daily  life  as  there  latent 
and  manifest.  The  domestic,  peasant,  and  provincial  scenes  and  charac- 
ters are  drawn  with  fresh  and  natural  colors  and  faithful  outlines." — 
Hemy  T.  Tuckerman. 

MARIETTA;  OR,  LIFE  IN  TUSCANY. 

'•  Mr.  T.  A.  Trollope,  always  a  prime  favorite  of  ours,  has  excelled  him- 
self in  '  Marietta.'  It  is  a  charming  book — charming  not  for  its  exquis- 
itely graphic  and  accurate  pictures  of  Italian  life  in  country  and  city,  but 
still  more  so  for  its  admirable  delineations  of  character." — London  Sutur- 

dny   Prrzs. 


MRS.  HENTZ'S  GREAT  WORKS. 


T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS,  No.  30G  Chestnut  Street, 
Philadelphia,  have  just  issued  an  entire  new,  complete,  and 
uniform  edition  of  all  the  celebrated  Novels  written  by  Mrs. 
1  I.;      Bentz,  in  twelve  large  duodecimo  volumes.    They 

are  printed  on  the,  finest  paper,  and  hound  in  the  most  beautiful 
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umes, in  Morocco  cloth,  will  be  sent  to  any  one,  to  any  place,  free 
of  postage,  on  receipt  of  Twenty  Dollars,  by  the  publishers. 

The  following  are  the  names  of  the  twelve  volumes: 

LINDA ;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  PILOT  OF  THE  BELLE  CREOLE.    With 
a  complete  Biography  of  Mrs.  Caroline  Lee  Hentz. 

ROBERT    GRAHAM.     A  Sequel    to   "Linda;   or,  The  Young  Pilot 
of  the  Belle  Creole." 

RENA ;  or,  THE  SNOW  BIRD.    A  Tale  of  Real  Life. 

MARCUS  WARLAND  ;  or,  The  Long  Moss  Spring. 

ERNEST  LINWOOD ;  or,  The  Inner  Life  of  the  Author. 

EOLINE;  or,  MAGNOLIA  VALE;   or,  Tho  Heiress  of   Glenmore. 

THE  PLANTER'S  NORTHERN  BRIDE;  or,  Scenes  in  Mrs.  Hentz 's 
Childhood. 

HELEN  AND  ARTHUR;  or,  Miss  Thusa's  Spinning- Wheel. 

COURTSHIP    AND    MARRIAGE;    or,    The   Joys    and    Sorrows   of 
American  Life. 

LOVE  AFTER  MARRIAGE;  and  other  Stories  of  the  Heart. 

THE  LOST  DAUGHTER ;  and  other  Stories  of  the  Heart. 

THE  BANISHED  SON  ;  and  other  Stories  of  the  Heart. 

The  above  twelve  books  have  proved  to  be  the  most  popular 
series  of  Novels  ever  issned  in  this  country,  as  they  are  written 
by  one  of  the  most  popular  Female  Novelists  that  ever  lived. 

Each  of  the  above  twelve  books  are  complete  in  one  volume, 
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Address  all  orders,  ;it  oner,  to  receive  immediate  and  prompt 
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MRS.  EMMA  D.  E.  N.  SQUTHWORTH'S  WORKS. 

Each  Work  is  complete  in  one  large   duodecimo  volume. 

A    NOBLE    LORD.     Sequel  to    "  77,     Lost  Heir  of  Linlithgow." 
THE  LOST  HEIR  OF  LINLITHGOW. 

THE  FAMILY  DOOM;  or,  THE  St A  OF  A  COUNTESS. 
THE    M.  I  WEN    WIDOW.     51  quel  to  ' '  The  Family  Doom. ' ' 
(7,7  II.   AS   THE   GRA  VE. 
THE  PRINCE  OF  DARKNESS. 
THE  MOTHER-1N-LA  W. 
THE  DESERTED    WIFE. 

THl    CHANG1  D  BRIDES. 
THE  BRIDE'S  FA  IF.    SI.  QUEL   1  0  CHANGED  BRIDES. 
TRIED  FOR  HER  LIFE.     A  Sequel  to  "Crueleuthe  Grave." 
THE  BRIDE  OF  LLEWELLYN. 
THE   till' SYS  PROPHECY. 
THE  FORTUNE  SEEK  Ell. 
THE  LOS1    HEIRESS. 
THE  dims  I  mas  GUEST. 
THE  BRIDAL  EVE. 

THE   THREE  E FATTIES. 
FAIR  PLAY;   OR,  THE   TEST  OF  THE  LONE   ISLE. 
HOW  HE  WON  HER.     SEQUEL  TO  tl  FAIR  PLAY." 
THE  FATAL  MARRIAGE. 

THE  HAUNTED  HOMESTEAD. 
LOVE'S  LABOR   WON. 

THE  MISSING  BRIDE. 
LADY  OF  THE  ISLE. 

THE   WIFE'S   VICTORY. 
THE  TWO  SISTERS. 
FALLEN  PRIDE;   OH,  THE  MOUNTAIN  GIRL'S  LOVE. 
INDIA;    OR,  THE  PEARL   OF  PEARL   RIVER. 
VI  VIA:   OR,    THE  SECRET  OF  POWER. 
THE  CURSE  OF  CLIFTON. 

I  III:  DISCARDED  DAUGHTER. 
THE   117/  OW'S  SON. 
ALL  WORTH  ABBEY. 
Ill  TRIBUTION. 
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i  pre  paid,  on  reoeipl  of  their  price  by  the  Publishers, 

T.   B.    PETERSON   &   BROTHERS, 

'   'ii  BTKUT   BtBBBT,    I'iiii  ai>:  i  pmia.   Pa. 


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